






LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 


UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 































m 


t 

1 

1 ^■* 





•■ ♦ 

1 

^■' ■' '"- 

« 

1 ' • 

V‘*^--' 

V' 1 



.;. jp^ >;-;!, •■ 

'■' , 

1 


^ \ . 
f“ . 

'JlF' 

i» ** 

» 


‘ ♦* « 

rl 

li* ' 

' * . » 

( 

1 

U 

1 





• r 


> t 


• i 





\ I 






r ^ ^ ' 





'* \ 





t*' 


f?*\ , ? 



<r 


M . ‘ ;': i 'ik** 
. . . > . - 








ri -w^ " 


r-T' 


r 





> >* ^* '* 


7 ‘. *N •:* 

^ -f' 

- 



Si.S 


■ ■'>,#. TiTf- 

Vc 

^ . • m 

4 ■• ■’*>’' - # V 


• ' • ■.■ •' V^t^- ■■■ 

.; v*«] 1 * Ri '*f ■*. - V , . ' - ¥ ■* i-' I * 

t\ ■ .. ■ wv .. - « ‘ ■ '• *« : ■'- ’■ ■ • ' ■ ■•' , .■ -»'i, 


«i/&! 




CASTLE BLAIR. 


“THERE IS A QUITE LOVELY LITTLE BOOK JUST COME OUT 
ABOUT CHILDREN, ‘ CAS-FLE BLAIR ’ 1 . . . THE BOOK IS 

GOOD, AND LOVELY, AND TRUE, HAVING THE BEST DESCRIPTION 
OF A NOBLE CHILD IN IT (WINNIE) THAT I EVER READ; AND 
NEARLY THE BEST DESCRIPTION OF THE NEXT BEST THING — A 
NOBLE DOG.”— JOHN RUSKIN. 


Castle Blair 


A STORY OF YOUTHFUL DAYS, 


^ FLORA L/ISHAW; 




AUTHOR OF “hector. 



BOSTON: 

ROBERTS BROTHERS. 

i88i. 



CASTLE BLAIR; 

A STORY OF YOUTHFUL DAYS. 


CHAPTER 1. 

I T was raining hard. Night had closed in already 
round Castle Blair. In the park the great trees, 
like giant ghosts, loomed gloomily indistinct through the 
dim atmosphere. Not a sound was to be heard but the 
steady down-pour of descending rain, and, from time to 
time, a long, low shudder of trees as the night wind 
swept over the park. 

The darkness and the rain had it all their own way 
outside, but there was one spot of light in the landscape. 
The hall door of the castle stood open, and behind it, in 
hospitable Irish fashion, there blazed a fire from which 
the warm rays streamed out and illumined the very rain 
itself ; for the dampness outside caught the pleasant glow 
and reflected it back again, till all round about the door- 
way there was, as it were, a halo of golden mist. The 
stone arch of the door was hidden by it, but it formed in 
itself an arch above the shining granite steps, — a beau- 
tiful framework of light for certain little figures, who, 
dark and ruddy against the glowing back-ground of the 
hall, were to be seen dancing backwards and forwards 
as though impatiently waiting for something. They 
were only children, and impatiently waiting for some- 
thing they certainly were. There were three of them, 
two fair-haired girls, and a boy. 

“ When will she come, I wonder ? ” said the elder of 
the girls, looking anxiously through the darkness in the 


4 


CASTLE BLAIB. 


direction of the avenue. “ I ’m sure the train must have 
been ever so late.’* 

“ Of course it was ! ” replied the boy ; “ it always is, 
and besides it would take half the day to get from Bally- 
boden in this weather. We ought to have sent a sailing 
vessel for her instead of the carriage. ’ 

“ I say, Murtagh, I wonder what she will be like. 
Uncle Blair’s never seen her. Donnie doesn’t know 
anything about her. It ’s very funny having French 
cousins one doesn’t know anything about.” 

“Oh, she’s sure to be all right; Uncle Harry was 
papa’s favorite brother ! But I wish Bobbo and Winnie 
had got in in time. Hark ! what ’s that ? ” 

“ That ” was the sound of carriage wheels, the sound 
the little listeners expected. It drew nearer and nearer, 
approaching slowly along the winding avenue ; the wet 
gravel crunched under the wheels, and at last out of the 
darkness emerged a heavy old carriage drawn by a pair 
of heavy old horses. 

“ I say, David, look sharp ! ” called Murtagh from the 
doorway. The horses were startled into activity by an 
unexpected touch of the whip, and the next instant the 
carriage stopped at the bottom of the steps. 

The boy who had spoken dashed down to open the 
door, but a sudden shyness seemed to fall upon his two 
companions, and they shrank back into the hall. There 
was, however, little to be afraid of in the girl who in 
another moment stood upon the threshold. She seemed 
to be about eighteen or nineteen. Tired and travel- 
stained though she looked, there was a quiet grace in the 
slight figure ; and the face in its setting of ruffled gold 
hair was as soft as it was sparkling. Her most remark- 
able feature was a pair of large, dark gray eyes which 
were looking out just now with a half-interested, half- 
wistful expression, that seemed to say this was no 
common arriving. 

And indeed for her it was not. An absolute stranger, 
she was arriving for the first time at Castle Blair, to 
make a new home in a new country amongst relations 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


5 


she did not know. She had been told she was to live 
with an old bachelor uncle, and that was literally all the 
information she possessed. If the children, as their 
words had indicated, knew little about her, she knew 
still less of them, for she was not even aware of their 
existence. 

Notwithstanding the first movement of hesitation the 
elder little girl seemed quite to understand that upon 
her devolved the duties of hostess, for she came forward 
now, and holding out her hand said shyly, “ How do 
you do ? ” 

The new comer felt shy too perhaps, but she took the 
hand and kept it in hers, drawing the child nearer to 
her as she answered in a sweet, clear voice : “I am 
very well, thank you, only a little tired with traveling. 
A long journey is very tiring.” 

“ Yes, very,” said the little girl, blushing again ; and 
there the conversation would have been likely to stop, 
but the boy who had opened the carriage door, having 
taken the stranger’s wraps from her, had now followed 
her into the hall and exclaimed heartily : 

“ Awfully tiring, and that drive from Ballyboden is so 
long. You must be very cold ; come over to the fire.” 

As he spoke he dropped her rug and bag on the floor, 
and ran and pulled forward one of the wooden arm- 
chairs that were ranged along the wall on either side of 
the fire-place. “ Did you see the fire as you came up ? ” 
he added ; “ the door had got shut somehow, but we 
opened it on purpose.” 

“ Yes, I saw it just now,” she replied, as after a 
minute’s hesitation she seated herself in the chair. “ It 
looked so pleasant and cheerful through the rain, it 
made me wish to get to it.” 

“ A fire ’s rather a jolly thing to see after a long drive 
in the dark,” said the boy ; “ and we do know how to 
make fires here if we don’t know anything else ' 

The children evidently expected their guest to stay in 
the hall, so she unfastened her gloves, and drawing 
them off held out two white hands to the blaze in quiet 


6 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


enjoyment of the warmth. Then after a pause, during 
which the children were studying her appearance, and 
she was wondering who her little companions might be, 
she turned again to the boy and said : 

“ We have not any one to introduce us to each other 
so we must introduce ourselves ; I daresay you know my 
name is Adrienne. Will you tell me your name, and the 
names of your sisters ? ” 

The two girls blushed again, the little one shrinking 
behind the elder, but the boy replied at once : 

“ I ^m Murtagh. That tallest one is Rosamond Mary; 
Rosie we call her. She ’s twelve years old.” 

“ No, Murtagh, you always make mistakes ; I ’m 
thirteen very nearly ! ” exclaimed Rosie, suddenly for- 
getting her shyness. 

“ Oh well ! it ’s all the same. Of course, girls always 
like to be thought old,” he explained, with a funny little 
chuckle, to Adrienne. “ Besides, you won’t be thirteen 
till the winter.” 

“ And that little thing is Eleanor Grace,” he contin- 
ued, addressing himself to his duty as master of the 
ceremonies ; “ Ellie, she ’s called. She ’s only three. 
Winnie ’s the best of them ; she ’s worth two of Rosie ; 
but she and Bobbo are out in the garden.” 

“ Out ! In this pouring rain.?’^ said Adrienne, look 
ing towards the open door. 

“ What does that matter .? ” returned Murtagh. “ We 
don’t mind rain. We ’re hardy little barbarians ; you 
needn't expect to find us like dandy French children.” 

The boy spoke flippantly ; he was evidently in a state 
of excited high spirits. 

A merry twinkle woke in Adrienne’s eyes. Already 
she was forgetting the fear of strange bachelor uncles. 

“ No,” she replied, with a significant glance at the 
dishevelled state of the children’s toilettes. “ I did not 
think you were dandy.” 

Murtagh blushed in spite of himself, and looked 
deprecatingly at the knees of his somewhat worn nicker- 
bockers, while his sister hastened to excuse herself. 


CASTLE BLAIE. 


7 


“ It really is impossible to keep tidy with the boys,’* 
she explained ; “ they do pull one about so.” 

■ “ Come now, the boys didn’t tear that dress ; you tore 
it yourself on Tuesday, coming down a nut tree,” said 
Murtagh. 

A contemptuous reply from Rosie seemed likely to 
lead to a sharp answer, but Adrienne interposed a ques- 
tion. She felt quite at home with the children now, 
and she wanted to find out something about them. 

“ Do you always live here ? ” she asked. 

“ Of course we do ! ” answered both the children at 
once. “ There ’s nowhere else where we could live since 
we came back from India.” 

“ Are there any more of you besides Winnie and 
Bobbo ? ” 

“ No,” said Murtagh, “ that ’s all. And quite enough, 
I expect you ’ll think before long,” he added, looking 
thoughtfully into the fire, and suddenly ceasing from his 
former flippant manner. 

Still Adrienne looked as though she would like to 
know more, and after hesitating for a moment she con- 
tinued : “ Who else is there in the house ? Who takes 
care of you ? ” 

“ Oh ! ” said Rosie, “ there ’s Mrs. Donegan. She 
takes care of everything you know, and cooks the dinner 
and all that. Then there ’s Peggy Murphy. She does 
the schoolroom, and mends our clothes ; and there is 
Kate Murphy ; and then there ’s the new housemaid, 
and Uncle Blair’s man. Brown ; and that ’s all except 
Mr. Plunkett.” 

“ Mr. Plunkett ! ” repeated Murtagh in a tone of 
disgust. 

“ Oh he is so horrible,” continued Rosie, who seemed 
prepared for any amount of chatter now she had thrown 
away her shyness. “He settles all about everything, 
and gives us our pocket-money on Saturdays, and gives 
Mrs. Donegan money to buy our clothes, and orders 
everybody about, and interferes. Mrs. Plunkett says his 
mother was a second cousin of Uncle Blah s mother. 


8 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


but I don’t believe she was. He ’s quite vulgar ; he 
doesn’t have late dinner or anything. But he doesn’t 
live in this house, you know ; he lives in a house in the 
park.” 

“ He ’s dot such a nice ickle baby,” put in Ellie, who 
had come close to Adrienne, and had been following 
the conversation with wide-open eyes and ears. 

“ Has he ? ” said Adrienne, encircling the child with 
her arm. “ What is it like ? ” 

“ It ’s dot two dreat big eyes and — ” 

“ It ’s got a nose, Ellie, don’t forget that,” interrupted 
Murtagh mockingly. 

Little Ellie was silenced ; she flushed up, and tears 
came into her eyes. But without paying any attention 
to her Rosie continued : 

“And that’s all the people there are in the house.” 

“ Except — Monsieur Blair,” suggested Adrienne, com- 
forting Ellie as she spoke by hanging her watch round 
the child’s neck. 

“Oh! Uncle Blair! Yes, of course he’s here, only 
I forgot all about him.” 

“ You don’t see much of him ? ” 

“No,” said Murtagh, with. a chuckle; “he thinks 
we ’re perfect little savages. He has breakfast with us 
every morning, because, you know, he thinks he ought 
to ; but you should see how funny he looks. I believe 
he ’s always expecting us to set upon him and eat him, 
or do something of that kind.” 

“ Hullo, Mrs. Donegan ! ” he called out suddenly, 
recovering his excited spirits as a good-humored, shrewd- 
looking woman entered the hall. “ There you are ! and 
it ’s high time you came, too. Here ’s a poor lady sitting 
freezing in the hall just for want of some one to show 
her to her room. Allow me to introduce Mrs. Bridget 
Donegan Esquire of Tipperary.” 

Adrienne acknowledged the introduction with a smile, 
and Mrs. Donegan, curtseying, began at once to apolo- 
gise for not having met her at the door. 

“ It ’s very sorry I am. Ma’am, that you should have 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


9 


been kept sitting out here. I Ve been waiting this last 
half-hour to hear the bell go/’ she began with much 
respectful dignity. And then suddenly turning round 
upon the children : “ It ’s you, Master Murtagh, might 
ha’ thought to ring it ; and where ’s your manners, Miss 
Rose, to keep Miss Blair sitting out here in the cold 
instead of taking her into the drawing-room.” 

“ It ’s not very cold,” said Adrienne, with a smiling 
glance at the fire. But she rose as she spoke, and Mrs. 
Donegan continued : “ Mr. Blair desired his compli- 

ments, Ma’am, and he was sorry he was engaged to dine 
out the evening you arrived, but he hoped the young 
ladies and gentlemen would make you comfortable. 
And, if you please. Ma’am, I ’ve boiled a couple of 
fowls for you, and there ’s a nice little drop o’ soup ; 
and will you have dinner served in the dining-room, or 
wouldn’t it be more comfortable like, if I sent it up with 
the children’s tea into the school-room.” 

“ Oh, I should like that much the best, please,” said 
Adrienne. * And the expression of relief that lighted up 
her countenance was perhaps hardly complimentary to 
Mr. Blair. 

“ Then it ’s no use going to that smelly old drawing- 
room ! ” exclaimed Murtagh. “ Come along to the 
school-room ! ” . 

He turned round as he spoke, and led the way across 
the hall, treating with silent contempt the expostulations 
of Rose and Mrs. Donegan, who were evidently of 
opinion that Adrienne ought first to be conducted to 
the drawing-room. He told Ellie to run on and open 
the door, so that there might be some light in the pas- 
sage ; but her little fingers not proving strong enough to 
turn the handle, the whole party had to grope their way 
in the dark. At the end of a long passage Rosie threw 
open a door, saying, “ Here ’s the school-room ! It ’s 
not particularly tidy. We did make it neat this morning, 
but somehow it always gets wrong again.” 

If it had been made neat that morning, it certainly 
had got considerably wrong again. It was a good-sized 


lO 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


room, with a large window at one end and another 
smaller one at the side. But the curtains were not 
drawn before either of them, and one was open, letting 
the rain beat in upon the carpet. The fire had burnt 
low, and the fender was full of ashes and chestnut- 
husks. The rest of the room was so strewn with toys, 
books, cooking-utensils, and miscellaneous rubbish of 
every description, that there was some difficulty in dis- 
tinguishing any article of furniture : only the tea-table, 
clean and white in the midst, stood out against the gen- 
eral disorder like an ark in a second deluge. 

“ Deed faith, it ’s time ye had some one to see after 
yez,” muttered Mrs. Donegan to herself. “ Where ’s 
Miss Winnie and Master Bobbo ? ” she added aloud. 

“ Gone to the garden to get some apples,” answered 
Murtagh. “ I wish they ’d look sharp in.” 

“ Well, when they do come in there isn’t a dress for 
Miss Winnie to put on. All the print dresses are gone 
to the wash-tub, and she soaked her old black one 
through and through this morning.” 

“Oh well, she can dry herself all right. Don’t you 
bother her about it and she won’t bother you,” replied 
Murtagh, good-humoredly, sitting down to the piano as 
he spoke, and beginning to play “ St. Patrick’s Day in 
the Morning.” 

“That’s just the way it is with them all; there ’s no 
getting them to listen to reason ; an’ it isn’t that they 
don’t have frocks enough,” explained poor Mrs. Done- 
gan in despair, “ but you might just every bit as well 
try to keep clean pinafores on the ducks and chit kens 
out in the yard as try to keep them tidy.” 

Murtagh’s only answer was to crow like a cock, and 
then he fell into the more meditative quacking of ducks 
as he began an elaborate variation upon his air. 

Their guest began to look just a little forlorn. She 
might have been amused at first, and perhaps relieved 
too by the children’s want of ceremony, but after trav- 
eling for three or four days people are apt to be tired, 
and it did not seem to occur to any one that she might 


OASTLE BLAIR. 


I 


like to be shown to a room where she could rest a little 
and wash away the dust of her long journey. There 
was apparently no chair disengaged either, upon which 
she might sit down, so she stood leaning against the 
chimney-piece, while Rosie tried hurriedly to make the 
room a little tidier, and Elbe sat down upon the floor, 
delighted with the treasure that had been left hanging 
round her neck. 

But Rosie had some idea of the duties of a hostess, 
and she soon noticed how white the girl looked. 

“ You look dreadfully tired,” she said in a voice so 
gentle that Adrienne was quite surprised. “Wait a 
minute, here ’s a comfortable chair ; I ’ll clear the music 
out of it.” As she spoke she tipped up an arm-chair, 
so as to empty what was in it on the floor, and wheeled 
it to the fire-place. 

“ Thank you,” said Adrienne ; “ but if you would 
show me where my room is : I should like to take off 
these,” indicating with a little gesture her bonnet and 
cloak; “I am so tired.” She meant to smile, but she 
really was so tired that she was much more near having 
tears in her eyes. 

“Oh, yes,” said Rosie ; “ and I ’ll get you some — ” 
but the end of her sentence was lost as she ran out of 
the room. 

The variation of “ St. Patrick’s Day ” was growing so 
intricate that Murtagh was completely absorbed by it. 
Mrs. Donegan was engaged in picking up books and 
toys from the floor ; there was nothing for Adrienne to 
do but to sit down and wait. 

“You do look tired. Ma’am,” said Mrs. Donegan 
presently, pausing with a broken Noah’s ark in her 
hand. “ I think. Master Murtagh, I ’ll go and send the 
tea in at once. There ’s no use waitin’ for Miss Winnie 
and Master Bobbo.” 

“ Fire away,” grunted Murtagh from the piano, exe- 
cuting some difficult chords with his left hand. His 
music was very good, quite unlike the playing of most 
children, and Adrienne began to think it pleasant to 


12 


CASTLE BLAITt. 


listen to as she lay back in the big chair Rosie had pie- 
pared for her. 

But in another moment the music was interrupted by 
a rushing sound, a collision of some kind, and then a 
confusion of voices in the hall. 

“ Whatever are you thinking of. Master Bobbo ? ” 
came out clearly in Donnie’s energetic tones. 

“ I do wish you ’d look where you ’re going, Donnie j 
you ’ve nearly knocked me into the middle of next 
week ! ” retorted a hearty boy’s voice. 

“ Hurrah ! here they are,” cried Murtagh, and forget- 
ting the interest of his music he started up and dashed 
into the hall. There was some whispering outside the 
door ; Adrienne heard plainly, “ What ’s she like ? ” 
and then Bobbo and Murtagh entered the room, fol- 
lowed by Winnie. 

Bobbo was a pleasant strong-looking boy, with clear 
eyes, rosy cheeks, and a turned-up nose, a contrast to 
Murtagh’s sallow face and dark deep-set eyes. 

Winnie was a little elf-like thing, and as she came in 
at the door, her scarlet cloak twisted all crooked with 
the wind, the skirt of her brown dress gathered up in 
both hands to hold the apples they had been to fetch, 
her hair beaten down over her forehead by the rain, her. 
great dark eyes dancing, her cheeks glowing, the merry 
mouth ready to break into smiles, she seemed the very 
incarnation of life and brightness. 

“The Queen of robin redbreasts ! ” was the idea that 
flashed through Adrienne’s mind, and she sat up with 
revived animation to greet the new comers. 

Bobbo walked up to her and said, “ How do you 
do ? ” with a decidedly Irish intonation, retiring then 
behind her chair and entering into a whispered conver- 
sation with little Elbe. 

Winnie advanced to the hearth-rug and dropped all 
her apples upon it, saying as she did so: “Fetch the 
dishes, Bobbo, from the pantry.” Then she shook hands 
with Adrienne, looking at her with clear, intelligent 
eyes. 


CASTI.E BLAIE. 


13 


“You have got your apples,” said Adrienne. “Your 
brother told me you were gone for them. He said you 
did not mind being wet.” 

“ Mind being wet ! ” said Winnie, with a bright look 
of amusement ; “ of course we don’t. Are you fond of 
apples ? ” she continued, looking down at the rosy fruit 
and wet leaves scattered on the hearth-rug. “We 
thought we ’d have some for tea as you were coming, so 
Bobbo and I went to fetch them. We meant to have 
been in by the time you came, only it was so dark it 
made us longer. See, here ’s a beauty ! ” she added, 
kneeling down upon the rug and picking out a specially 
fine Ribstone Pippin. “ Do try this ; I ’m sure it ’s 
good.” 

She held it up towards Adrienne as she spoke, large 
and rich-colored, still wot with rain, the cluster of leaves 
under which it had ripened yet crisp upon its stalk, and 
she looked so thoroughly persuaded of its deliciousness 
that Adrienne could not help taking it, and answered 
smilingly — 

“ I will have it for dessert after the chickens.” 

But with a sudden change of expression, forgetting 
all about Adrienne, Winnie turned to Murtagh, and ex- 
claimed eagerly — , 

“ Oh, it has been such fun getting these ; wasn’t it, 
Bobbo ? I must tell you all about it. Well, we got 
past Bland’s cottage all safe enough ; the rain and the 
wind were making such a jolly row theie wasn’t a chance 
of our being heard.” 

“ Bland’s the gardener,” explained Murtagh to Adii- 
enne, “ and he always tries to catch us when we bag 
the fruit.” 

“ But just as we were nearly in the garden,” con- 
tinued Winnie, — “ Bobbo was on the top of the gate, 
and I ’d got up as far as the lock, — what should we hear 
but Bland coming, tramp, tramp, along the gravel ; and 
Bobbo was such an awful little muff, he called out : ‘ I 
say, he ’s got a lantern, an* he ’s sure to see us.’ And, 
of course, don’t you see that made him hear us, and it 


14 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


would be all up if we couldn’t get hid quick enough ; so 
I jumped down and squeezed in under a bush-, but when 
Bobbo tried to get down, one of the spikes of the gate 
went through his knickerbockers, and there he stuck. 
On came Bland, and called out : ‘ Ha ! ye good-for- 
nothing vagabones ; it ’s caught ye are this time ! ’ and, 
lo and behold ! it wasn’t Bland at all, but a great big 
policeman. He pulled Bobbo down off the gate, and 
didn’t he tear a fine hole in the back of his knicker- 
bockers, just? Poor Bobbo got in such a fright he 
couldn’t say a word, so I jumped out from under the 
bush, and I said : ‘ We ’re not stealing ! we ’re only 

going to take some apples for tea. We ’re ladies and 
gentlemen.’ So he looked at the hole in Bobbo’s clothes 
as if he wasn’t quite sure, so I said : ‘ You tore that, 
taking him off the gate ! ’ Bobbo did look awfully untidy 
though, with the light of the lantern shining full on the 
raggy part of him. Then he turned the lantern on to 
my face, and then he laughed, and said : ‘ I ’m sure I 
beg your pardon, Miss; I hadn’t an idea it would be 
any one but ragamuffins out o’ the village about this 
wild night.’ 

“ So I said, very politely, you know : ‘ Please would 

you just help us over the gate ? It ’s so very high to 
climb when the bars are slippery with rain.’ So he 
helped us both over, and then I said : ‘ Would you 
mind just standing about here till we come back ? And 
if you hear Bland coming give a good loud whistle, will 
you ? ’ So he said he would, and we ran off and got 
the apples, and then he helped us back over the gate 
again, and we gave him some apples, and here we are. 
By the by, Bobbo, I ’ve left my hat up in that first apple 
tree. But wasn’t it jolly fun making the policeman 
keep watch for us ? ” 

“ Awfully jolly ! ” said Murtagh. “ What ’s his num- 
ber? we’ll make him do it to-morrow night, too. No, no, 
Winnie ; that ’s not the way to settle those apples. Put 
the streaked one next the rosy one. So. Now put a 
yellow one, and a Virginian creeper leaf. There ; that ’s 
it ! You ’ve no more eye for color than a steam-engine.” 


CASTLE BLAIJi. 


15 


Tired though she was, Adrienne’s face had glistened 
with responsive fun as Winnie, with expressive gestures, 
described their little adventure. She had not the least 
idea who these children were, but they were merry and 
charming, and their manners put her at her ease. 

Just as \\‘innie stopped speaking the schoolroom door 
was pushed slowly open, and Rosie entered, carefully 
holding in both hands a salver upon which was a glass 
of wine. “You look so tired,” she said to Adrienne, 
“ that I thought you ’d better have this without waiting 
for tea.” 

“Thank you,” said Adrienne. The wine was just 
what she needed, and as she put the glass back upon 
the salver she added gratefully: “You are accustomed 
to be mistress of a house I see.” 

Rosie flushed with pleasure, and replied : “ There ’s 
nobody but me except when Cousin Jane’s here. I’ll 
go and see now about hurrying tea : I can’t think what 
they ’re taking such a time for.” 

“ But my room,” suggested Adrienne again ; “ if I 
might go to it first, I am so dusty.” 

“Oh yes ! ” said Rosie, “ I ’ll be back in a minute;” 
and she departed on her errand to the kitchen. 

“ I ’ll show you your room if you like,” said Winnie, 
jumping up from the floor. “ Come, along ! ” 

But the fire was drawing clouds of steam from the 
child’s wet clothes, and as Adrienne looked towards her 
she perceived it. 

“ Do you know,” she exclaimed in dismay, “ your 
dress must be quite wet through ? Please do not mind 
about my room, but go and change it quickly.” 

“ Oh, it doesn’t hurt me being wet,” laughed Winuie. 

“Besides,” said Murtagh, “she hasn’t got anything 
to change into. Didn’t you hear Donnie say all her 
clothes were in the wash-tub? ” 

Adrienne hesitated. She did not like to insist. At 
the same time she had already made such friends with 
these children that she felt as though it were somehow 
her Business to prevent them catching cold. 


I6 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


“ Haven’t you a dressing-gown ? ” she asked at length. 
“ I think it must be very bad to stay so wet as that.” 

“ Oh yes ! ” said Winnie, “ I ’ll go and undress and 
put on my dressing-gown, then I ’ll be ready to jump 
into bed without any more trouble ; that ’ll be rather 
fun. Do you know where my dressing-gown is, Mur- 
tagh ? ” she added, as she danced off towards the door. 
“ You had it last, the day we were dressing up, don’t 
you remember ? 

“ I ’m sure I don’t know where we left it,” replied 
Murtagh, pausing to contemplate the dishes with his 
head on one side and an apple in each hand. “ It ’s 
somewhere about, I suppose.” 

“ Oh, well, never mind. I ’ll get Rosie’s. Don’t 
finish settling those apples till I come down ; ” and she 
vanished into the passage. 

Murtagh dropped the apples which he held, and 
jumped up. 

“ Shall I show you your room ? ” he asked, taking a 
candle from the chimney-piece and turning with sudden 
politeness to Adrienne. “ You really must want to get 
your things off. Let me carry your umbrella. And you 
would like to have your bag. We left it in the hall, I 
think.” 

He led the way, as he spoke, out again into the hall, 
and crossing over to the other end began to mount a 
broad oak staircase. 

It was dark with age, and the light of the candle 
which Murtagh carried sufficed to show that in places 
bits of carving had dropped or been broken from the 
high wainscot and massive balustrade ; doors yvere let 
into the wainscoting, and two of them stood open, but 
they only disclosed dark distances that seemed to tell of 
long passages or descending flights of steps. 

Murtagh was quite silent at first, preceding Adrienne 
by a few* steps, but when they reached the corridor 
above he fell back so as to walk beside her. 

She said something about .the house being very large. 

“Yes, and it seems beastly lonely to you now; doesn’t 


. CASTLE BLAIR. 


17 


it ? ” he said in a tone different from any he had used 
before. “ 1 did feel so nasty at first when we came 
from India. But you must cheer up, you know; you 
won’t think us so bad, I expect, when you get accustomed 
to us, and it ’s a dear old place. There ’s a beautiful 
river full of rocks, and real wild mountains with heather 
on them.” 

“ I ’m sure I shall like everything,” she replied 
warmly. 

“ Well, you know,” said Murtagh, thoughtfully, 
“ we ’re awfully rampageous and everything. That ’s 
why people don’t like us. You see we can’t help it 
exactly, we ’re always that way.” There was a half-sad 
undertone in the boy’s voice, and his companion turned 
her sweet eyes kindly upon him as she answered, 
“ You ’ve been very kind to me.” 

He looked gratified, but he put an end to the conver- 
sation by throwing open a door and exclaiming, “ This 
is your room.” 

It was a large, comfortable room with old-fashioned, 
faded furniture, and a great four-post bed ; the big fire 
that blazed cheerily at one end filling it all with warm 
light and dancing shadows. 

“ Have you got water, and all that kind of thing ? ” 
he inquired with a look round the room. 

“ Yes, thank you. Will you unfasten that little box 
for me ? ” 

Murtagh, having unfastened the box and poked the 
fire, retired, saying that he would come and fetch her 
as soon as tea was ready ; and the girl was left alone to 
realize that her new life had actually begun. 

She was an orphan. Her mother had been French, 
her father was the Uncle Harry of whom the children 
spoke. But both had died while she was yet 'a baby, 
and her father had particularly desired that after being 
brought up by her mother’s relations in France she 
should, as soon as she was old enough, go to live with 
his brother John. 

From her babyhood she had known that she was to 
2 


i8 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


come to Ireland when she'was eighteen. Though she 
had never seen her Uncle John, nor even heard from 
him directly, his arrangements for her had been always 
so kindly and generous that she had been taught to 
think of him with both affection and respect. With her 
French blood she had inherited, too, French adapta- 
bility. No one could like having to come to live with 
strangers, but it was not so bad as having to do as many 
of her companions had done — marry a perfect stranger; 
it had to be borne, and she was fully prepared to make 
the best of it. She was quite ready to be interested in 
the place and its inhabitants. This rambling house 
with its dark corridors, its old staircase and endless 
doors, telling of unoccupied rooms, was unlike anything 
she had ever seen in France ; the idea of living in it 
pleased her. Irish ways certainly seemed different 
from any that she knew ; but she had expected that they 
would be different, and the children had received her 
with such quaint familiarity that already, to an extent 
she could hardly have believed possible, she felt at 
home. 


CHAPTER II. 



T eight o’clock next morning, as a great bell ring- 


ing through the house announced that breakfast 
was ready, Murtagh and Rosie set off together from the 
school-room to fetch their guest, both of them anxious 
for the glory of introducing her to their uncle. 

By the time they got up-stairs Adrienne had already 
left her room, and was standing in the strip of sunlight 
that streamed through her open door, looking doubt- 
fully down the corridor. She wore a rough gray wool- 
en dress, fastened at the throat with a knot of bright 
blue ribbon, and in her belt she had put two or three 
red leaves from the Virginian creeper that clustered 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


9 


round her window. The sunlight, shining full upon her 
golden hair, made of the whole a picture that was ex- 
tremely satisfactory to Murtagh’s eye. 

“I say, Rosie!” he exclaimed, standing still in the 
dark end of the corridor, “doesn’t she look jolly like 
that.’^' 


“Yes, isn’t she pretty? I expect she’s had all her 
clothes made in Paris too,” Rosie replied in an enthusi- 
astic whisper, which betrayed that however much the 
young lady’s education had been neglected in other 
respects, there were some things she did reverence. 

“ Paris I ” retorted Murtagh, contemptuously. But 
at that moment Adrienne perceived them, and came for- 
ward with a bright “ Good morning.” 

“ I guessed that the bell meant breakfast,” she con- 
tinued, “ and I was wondering how I should find my way 
to the dining-room.” 

“ That ’s why we came,” said Rosie ; “ and then 
there ’s Uncle Blair, you know, you haven’t seen him 
yet.” 

“ No,” said Adrienne. “ And the others ? ” she con- 
tinued after a little pause, “ where are they ? Are they 
in the dining-room ? ” 

“Oh, Bobbo’s in bed, I think,” replied Rosie, “but 
he ’ll be down in a minute or two ; and Winnie ’s — 
out,” she added, letting her voice drop mysteriously at 
the last word. 

“ Then she did go ? ” asked Murtagh eagerly. 

“ Yes, quite early, while it was dark, about three 
o’clock, I think ; the stable clock struck, but I was so 
sleepy I couldn’t count.” 

“ Is it a secret ? ” asked Adrienne. 

“ Well, it ’s not exactly — at least it ’s a sort of a se- 
cret,” replied Rose, doubtfully. She looked at Mur- 
tagh as she spoke, to see what he thought ; but he was 
looking at Adrienne, and she had to decide for herself. 

“ I think you might know,” she continued. “ She ’s 
gone to the Liss of Voura to see if she can see the — • 
Fairies.” The last word came out with a vivid blush. 


20 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


“ They say they dance there every morning when the 
sun rises. But I daresay it ’s not true,” she added in a 
would-be careless tone, her skepticism arising not from 
any doubt in the fairies’ existence, but from a sudden 
fear that Adrienne might think such idea ridiculous. 

“ Why shouldn’t it be true I should like to know ” 
asked Murtagh, with a somewhat fierce ring of champion- 
ship in his tone. But they had reached the dining- 
room, and Rosie gladly avoided the necessity for 
answering by throwing open the door and ushering 
Adrienne into the presence of Mr. Blair. 

He had been sitting reading the newspaper, but as 
they entered he rose and stretched out both hands to 
Adrienne, saying in a warm gentle voice : “ My dear 
child, you are very welcome.” 

As Adrienne advanced, blushing a little, to lay her 
hands in his, he gazed at her with something of sur- 
prised tenderness in his face, and murmured, “ Renee ! ” 
Then he added aloud : “ What is your name, my dear } ” 

“ Adrienne,” she answered. 

“Ah, yes, yes. That was her name too,” he said 
dreamily to himself. Then drawing out a chair from 
the table he continued : “ Sit down, and make the tea ; 
I shan’t have to do it for myself, any more now.” 

She sat down as she was told, and began to busy her- 
self with the tea-making. Her uncle stood beside her 
some little time in silence watching her movements. 

“ Why didn’t they tell me you were so like your 
mother?” he asked presently. 

“ My mother ! ” exclaimed Adrienne. “ Am I like 
her? She died so long ago I don’t remember her at 
all,” she added sadly. 

“Yes, yes; only two years after she married him. 
It ’s a long time ago now. How old are you, my dear? ” 

“I was eighteen my last birthday,” replied Adri- 
enne ; but her uncle did not seem to hear. He walked 
away to his place at the bottom of the table, and his 
next remark was to ask Rosie where the other children 
were. Rosie answered sedately that she thought they 


CASTLE BLAIE. 


21 


were coming presently, all except Winnie; and break- 
fast proceeded in silence till Bobbo came tumbling into 
the room with little Ellie following upon his heels. 

He did not speak to any one, and would have taken 
his place at once at the breakfast table ; but as Adrienne 
naturally held out her hand and said “Good morning,’’ 
he came around and shook hands with her, asking with 
a hearty look out of his frank blue eyes, whether she 
had got rested yet. Then, though the children kept up 
a half-whispered conversation between themselves at 
their end of the table, they did not speak either to their 
uncle or to Adrienne. Mr. Blair maintained complete 
silence, and Adrienne devoted herself to Ellie, whose 
high chair was placed beside her. 

The little thing was too shy to speak much, but she 
looked her surprise and delight at the nicely cut fingers 
of bread and butter which Adrienne built up into cas- 
tles on her blue plate, and watched with almost solemn 
interest the important, and, to her, altogether novel 
operation of sifting sugary snow upon the roofs of them. 
Then, as she grew bolder, a little rosy finger was put 
out, and when some of the snow fell upon it there came 
such a merry peal of baby laughter that Adrienne laughed 
too, and Mr. Blair looked up in benign astonishment. 

The other children regarded with some surprise the 
consideration with which the wants of their small sister 
were supplied, but their chief attention was devoted to 
their breakfast. 

They ate continuously till their hunger was appeased ; 
then Murtaugh pushed out his chair, and they all went 
away, not having been more than a quarter of an hour 
in the room. 

Mr. Blair had finished his breakfast, and apparently 
was absorbed again in the reading of his newspaper, so 
Adrienne quietly prepared to follow the children. But 
as she moved across the room her uncle looked up. 

“ You have had a sorry welcome, I am afraid, my 
dear,” he said ; “ but I hope you will be able soon to 
feel that, for all that, we are none the less glad to have 


22 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


you amongst us.” He rose, as he spoke, and walked 
slowly towards the fire-place where Adrienne stood. 
“You understand, of course,” he continued, “that so 
long as you live with me you are mistress here. Done- 
gan is very anxious to make you comfortable, but I 
daresay she may not know everything you require. So 
you must just make yourself as much at home as you 
can from the very first, and order anything you want. 
May I trust you to do this ? ” 

“You are very kind,” Adrienne replied gratefully. 
Then as she looked up at the kind, dreamy face that 
was turned towards her she was encouraged to add : 
“ But I had a very kind welcome ; the children were 
watching for me, and they took charge of me.” 

“Ah yes, the children,” replied her uncle. “You 
must try and put up with them as well as you can. Mr. 
Plunkett tells me that they are very unruly; but they 
are the children of my brother Launcelot, and till he 
sends for them they will remain here. Who knows,” he 
added in the tone of one struck by a sudden idea ; 
“ perhaps you will not mind having them : they may 
serve as a sort of companion for you, my poor child. I 
am afraid you will be very lonely here.” 

“ Do you mean,” said Adrienne, puzzled, “you thought 
I would not like to have the children ? Oh, but I am 
so glad ! ” And there was no questioning the sudden 
lighting up of her face. “ I was so afraid,” she con- 
tinued ; then a vivid blush interrupted the new sentence, 
and she ended in some confusion — “I love children 
very much.” 

“ They are very lucky,” said her uncle, with a glance 
of admiration at the pretty confused figure that stood 
before him on the hearthrug. 

“I did not mean,” — she began, responding half- 
laughingly to the amused look in his face, and at the 
same time coloring more deeply as she saw that he had 
divined the end of her sentence. 

“ My dear child,” he interrupted, “ you did not mean 
anything but what was perfectly natural, — that you 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


23 


dreaded the dullness of living alone with a worn-out old 
man. And I am right glad to find that the children are 
likely to be a pleasure to you instead of a worry; indeed, 
I wonder I did not think of that before, for there is only 
just enough difference of age between you,” he added, 
smiling, “to make you delightful to me; while the 
others! — ” An expression of comic despair finished 
the sentence. 

“ But now,” he continued, “ you will be a Godsend to 
all of us. Since you care about children you will look 
after them a little for me. And as for them ; well, even 
I will credit them with good taste enough to appreciate 
in some measure at least the privilege of having such a 
little guardian. And now, my dear, I will not keep you 
any longer.” 

He bent forward, as he spoke, and touched her fore- 
head with his lips. Then with a kindly pressure of the 
hand he walked to the door, and held it open while she 
passed out. His rooms lay in the opposite direction to 
those occupied by the children, so outside the dining- 
room he turned away ; and Adrienne, after crossing the 
hall and wandering about a little among smaller pas- 
sages, was guided by the sound of voices to a door which 
she recognized at once, thanks to a crooked brass handle 
and the letters “ L. B.” cut with a penknife in the 
brown wood above the lock. 

She opened it, and found herself straightway in the 
presence of all the children. The large window at the 
end of the room was open wide, and Winnie seated side 
ways on the window-sill, with her head resting against 
the gray stone frame-work, was eating a large hunch of 
bread. A flock of pigeons and white ducks clamored 
•for scraps on the terrace outside; curled up in her lap 
lay four small kittens, and the big mother cat sat sun- 
ning herself upon the window-sill ; but Winnie seemed 
to be paying only a mechanical attention to her pets. 
She was white from want of food, and there was a 
general air of pre-occupation and disappointment in her 
attitude, — disappointment which seemed to have com- 


24 


CASTLE BLAIB, 


municated itself in a measure to the other children, who 
stood grouped around her. 

“No,” she was saying as Adrienne entered; “it’s 
just Pegg}'-’s rubbish, and there ’s an end of it.” 

“ Well, but,” said Murtagh doubtfully, “ they might 
be there another day and not be there to-day.” 

“No,” returned Winnie decidedly; “I don’t belie, e 
they ’re ever there. It was quite dark when I got up on 
the Liss, and I hid under a bush and watched with my 
eyes wide open till it was blazing light all over every- 
where, and I didn’t see a single thing, and there — 
there ’s an end of it. It ’s just rubbish ! ” She flung a 
piece of crust out on the grass as she spoke, so that the 
poor ill-used ducks had to turn round and waddle quite 
a journey before they got it. But perhaps even ducks 
can look reproachful, for she broke almost immediately 
another bit from her hunch of bread, and threw it to a 
fat laggard, with a compassionate — “There, poor old 
Senior, that ’s for you.” And then, turning more gently 
to Murtagh, she said: “Never mind. Myrrh, you know 
it wasn’t any use believing it if it wasn’t true.” 

Murtagh did not answer. But suddenly an idea 
crossed Bobbo’s mind, and he exclaimed, half-doubt- 
fully: “Win, do you think — they might have known 
you were coming, and perhaps they didn’t choose for 
you to see them ? ” 

The notion seemed to find some favor with the other 
children. Winnie glanced at Murtagh to see what he 
thought ; but Murtagh, who had been aware of Adri- 
enne’s entrance, was looking to her, so Winnie’s eyes 
followed his. 

“ No, I do not think that exactly,” said Adrienne 
slowly, finding that she was expected to speak. She 
seated herself on the window-sill, opposite Winnie, and 
began to stroke the old cat. Then she continued in the 
same slow, thoughtful tone : “ Once I used to believe 

in fairies as you do, and I used to want to see them, 
but I never did. I used to think I did sometimes, but 
I never did. Then I began to think they could not be 


CASTLE BLAIE, 


2 ^ 


true, and that made me very unhappy, for I loved them 
‘SO. I don’t think you can love them as much as I did. 
Everything that happened to me I used to think the 
fairies were there ; you see, I wasn’t like you ; I was all 
alone, and hadn’t anybody but the fairies. When it 
was fine I thought the fairies were in the sun ; when it 
rained I thought they were in the rain. I thought they 
were in the flowers, in the moon, — everywhere, in every- 
thing. But still I began to be afraid they could not be 
true. 

“ I do not know how long that lasted, but I remember 
quite, quite well the day when it was all finished — the 
very last day when I ever believed in them. 

“ It was when I was eight years old. It was one wet 
winter afternoon. I had been alone nearly all day, and 
I had been standing a long time* by the window watching 
the rain beat down upon the pavement. It was growing 
dark, but still I did not go away; for I always used to 
think the little splashes were water-fairies dancing, and 
I liked to watch them. I was thinking about them, and 
half-dreaming, I think, when suddenly, quite suddenly, 
I seemed to know that they were not fairies at all — 
nothing but water-splashes. I felt almost frightened, 
and I went away from the window and sat down on the 
hearthrug in front of the fire. But then the sight of 
the fire reminded me that there were no fire-fairies 
either ; no fairies anywhere all over the world. It 
seemed such a dreadful thing to know ; and I couldn’t 
help it, — I just hid my face in the hearthrug, and cried 
like a little baby.” 

The children had fixed their eyes with interest and 
sympathy on Adrienne, but her attention was apparently 
concentrated on stroking old Griffin, who purred in the 
sunshine. 

“ I never shall forget that afternoon,” she continued, 

I was so very unhappy ; and it wasn’t only that after- 
noon ; for months afterwards I couldn’t bear to think 
of a fairy. But the reason I tell you about it,” she 
added, raising her eyes and looking towards the children, 


26 


CASTLE BLAin. 


“ is because afterwards it went away. One of my uncles 
came to live with us, and he told me about the true 
fairies ; I mean the angels ;• and I have believed them 
ever since. And so you need not be disappointed 
because the fairies do not really dance where Winnie 
went to look, because the angels are better, and they 
are true. Some people don’t think the angels are all 
round us everywhere as the fairies were, but I do. I 
think it is so beautiful to believe that they are every- 
where, in everything ; sent down from heaven to make 
the flowers sweet, and the fruit ripe, and to put good 
into us.” 

She looked out, as she finished speaking, to the sunny 
park, where the great trees stood in all their autumn 
glory. The children looked out too and were silent. 
Just for the moment they were all feeling, as it were, 
the presence of angels. 

But suddenly Bobbo was struck by another idea. 
“ Why you ’re talking English ! ” he exclaimed. “ But 
you know you ’re French ! I ’d forgotten all about it ! ” 
He seemed quite excited by his discovery, and Adrienne 
began to laugh. 

“ Oh yes ! ” cried Winnie, “ of course you are, and 
Murtagh and I had got some things ready to say. 
Hadn’t we, Murtagh ? ‘ Comment vous portez vous,’ 
and ‘ Parlez vous Anglais.’ ” 

“ I am very well, thank you,” said Adrienne, with a 
little mock bow. “And I speak English just as easily 
as I do French. We lived for years in England, you 
know, and then I always had English governesses. 
Grand’mbre knew, of course, that I was coming here, so 
she paid particular attention to my English.” 

“ Oh ! ” said all the children in chorus ; and then 
Rosie, coloring violently, asked a question which it had 
evidently been agreed beforehand that she should ask. 

“What did you say your name was? Murtagh says 
it ’s Adf'enne\ but that isn’t a name exactly at all, is it ? ” 

“Yes,” said Adrienne, smiling. “He is quite right; 
Adrienne Marie Veronique Erstein Blair 1” 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


27 


“ Good Lord ! ” exclaimed Bobbo, doubling himself 
up as though the very sound gave him a pain. “ What 
a name to go to bed with ! • Do you expect us to say all 
that every time we want the door shut } ” 

The faces of the other children were so full of genu- 
ine dismay that Adrienne laughed outright. 

“Grand’mere used to call me Reine/’ she said; 
“ that’s a little shorter, isn’t it ?” 

“ Yes, but,” said Murtagh doubtfully, “ ‘ Rain ! ’ It 's 
not pretty, or anything. You’re not a bit rainy- 
looking.” 

“ Bitter, patter ! Drip, drop, dropsy ! ” exclaimed 
Bobbo, his blue eyes lighting up impudently. 

“ Hush, Bobbo, be quiet ; you ’re behaving very 
rudely,” said Rosie, with a little anxious glance at 
Adrienne. “ We can’t call you by any of those names,” 
she added in her pleasantest voice, “ they are not pretty 
enough.” 

“Would you mind saying your name again, please,” 
said Murtagh, looking puzzled ; “ the first one, 1 mean, 
that we ’ll have to call you by ? ” 

Adrienne repeated it slowly once or twice, and the 
children said it after her. But they didn’t seem satisfied 
with their own pronunciation. 

“ It will never be the same as yours,” exclaimed 
Bobbo, after two ineffectual attempts. “ I ’ll call you 
Topsy ; it ’s much easier ! ” 

“ I ’ll tell you what,” said Winnie, who had been 
silently finishing her piece of bread. “ Suppose we call 
her Nessa, after poor Nessa that died.” She spoke 
slowly as children do speak when their words are full of 
sad memories ; and she looked doubtfully at the others, 
not sure what they would think of her proposition. They 
hesitated, and a grave silence fell for a moment on the 
little group. Adrienne regretted that she had been the 
means of saddening them. 

“Who was Nessa? ” she asked at length gently. 

“ She was so pretty,” said Winnie, “ with long soft 
brown hair and beautiful big eyes.” 


28 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


“ I think she was a little bit like you,” said Murtagh ; 
“only her hair was browner than yours.” 

“ Oh, Murtagh ! ” exclaimed Rosie. 

“ Was she as old as me ? ” asked Adrienne. 

“ Oh, no,” said Murtagh, “ she was quite young ; but 
she did bark so beautifully.” 

“ She did what T' exclaimed Adrienne. 

“ Bark ! bark at all the strangers that came near the 
place.” 

“ Oh ! ” said Adrienne, completely taken aback. 
Then — then — she must have been a dog ! ” 

“Yes,” said Rosie, hurriedly. “It’s ridiculous Mur- 
tagh saying she was like you ; she was only a little dog 
that we found in the road.” 

“ Why, what else did you suppose she was ? ” asked 
Murtagh in surprise. 

“I — I thought,” said Adrienne, blushing, and then 
brimming over with laughter, — “1 thought she was 
your elder sister.” 

The children greeted her speech with such peals of 
laughter that the sadness connected with Nessa was 
effectually dispersed, and no further hesitation was en- 
tertained as to Adrienne’s name. Nothing could she be 
now but “Nessa;” — “Our elder sister Nessa,” as 
Murtagh half-impudently, half-admiringly called her. 

“ And it ’s perfect nonsense, Rosie,” said Murtagh, 
“ to say that the other Nessa wasn’t like her. Her hair 
was darker, and so were her eyes ; but there was a sort 
of likeness about them all the same, — a sort of golden 
look in their faces ; wasn’t there, Winnie ? ” 

“ How silly you are, Murtagh ! ” replied Rosie con- 
temptuously, “just as if a dog could be like a real 
grown-up person.” 

“Yes, they can,” replied Murtagh; “and I heard 
papa saying one day to a gentleman who had a blue 
ribbon on his coat, at one of the big dinner-parties, that 
everybody has a sort of a likeness to some animal. 
There ! ” 

“ Then if they have, you ’re like a little black mon- 


CASTLE BLAIR, 


29 


key,” replied Rosie, hotly and inconsequently ; “ but 
it ’s nonsense all the same, silly nonsense, to say that a 
little brown dog out on the road is like this Nessa ! ” 

“ But it isn’t nonsense, Rosie, when I see — ” began 
Murtagh. 

Rosie contemptuously turned her back upon him, and 
Winnie remarked quietly : 

“ It ’s no use arguing with Rosie, you know. Myrrh;” 

“ The only chance with her is to knock her down 
and sit upon her,” said Bobbo, good humoredly indif- 
ferent. 

Murtagh paid no attention to either of them, but fol- 
lowed Rosie, exclaiming eagerly : “ Can’t you under- 
stand if I see a likeness — ” Rosie never listened to 
what her opponent said, and perhaps she thought he 
was going to follow Bobbo’s advice, for she pushed him 
away so violently that he lost his balance and fell over 
little Elbe, who was, as usual, sitting upon the floor. 
The child began to scream ; Adrienne sprang forward 
to pick her up ; and in the midst of the confusion the 
door opened, and Peggy’s voice made itself heard, say- 
ing : “ Whisht, Miss Ellie j get up, Mr. Murtagh, dear ; 
here ’s Mr. Plunkett.” 

“ Hang Mr. Plunkett ! ” muttered Murtagh, getting 
up slowly, and pulling his jacket straight. Adrienne 
had already picked up Ellie, and carried her in her arms 
back to the window-sill, but the child had been hurt ; 
and, nothing abashed by the sight of the correct-looking 
person who appeared in the doorway, she continued to 
roar with all her might, her little red face puckered up, 
and bright salt tears dropping on Adrienne’s shoulder. 

Mr. Plunkett stood in the doorway surveying the 
scene. 

“Is this the best specimen, sir, that you can give 
Miss Blair of your behavior ? ” he inquired sternly, 
addressing Murtagh. 

Murtagh made no answer. 

“And you are not content,” continued Mr. Plunkett, 
looking at Rosie’s hot, angry face, “with displaying 


30 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


such unruliness yourself, but you draw all your brothers 
and sisters after you.” 

Murtagh walked over to the piano and began to 
arrange the music, humming, “There was an old woman 
who lived in a shoe.” 

“ Incorrigible boy ! ” said Mr. Plunkett in an under- 
tone. Then turning to Adrienne he saluted her with a 
bow and a respectfully polite, “ Miss Blair, I presume.” 

Notwithstanding the first movement of hostility that 
his manner was likely to excite, there was a certain 
severe dignity in his bearing that commanded respect. 
He wished to be courteous to Adrienne, and though his 
piercing eyes did not soften in the least while he spoke 
with her, he said well and politely all that was natural 
for him to say to a newly-arrived inmate of Castle Blair. 

Yet it was certainly not even his politest manner that 
commanded respect. It was something deeper — some- 
thing that seemed indeed almost hidden by his manner ; 
a strength of some kind, the presence of which was 
felt at once through all the superficial accidents of his 
nature. 

Adrienne, engaged in soothing Elbe, replied to his 
remarks with a certain gracious gentleness peculiar to 
her. Presently the child forgot her grief in a sudden 
curiosity as to the method of buttoning and unbuttoning 
Adrienne’s dress, and with the tears still glistening on 
her cheeks she began to smile with pleasure as she 
poked her little fingers through the button-holes. Then 
Adrienne wiped away the tears, and the conversation 
with Mr. Plunkett grew into a more animated discus- 
sion of the beauties of the surrounding country. 

“ I hope,” said Mr. Plunkett at length, “ that you will 
be kind enough to let me know if there is anything you 
desire. It is Mr. Blair’s wish that I should do every- 
thing in my power to make you comfortable. As fpr the 
children, when they trouble you, pray have no hesitation 
in applying to me for assistance. And I hope,” he 
added, raising his voice a little, and addressing the 
cliildren without looking at them, “ that common hospi- 


CASTLE BLAIE. 


31 


talit} will induce you to inflict as little as possible of 
your wildness upon your cousin.” 

Adrienne thanked him, but looking across at the 
children, she said : “ I think we are going to be friends ; 
aren’t we ? ” 

The children’s faces, more or less expressive, showed 
their acceptance of the treaty. Mr. Plunkett looked as 
though he felt somehow vaguely disapprobatory; and 
then, turning round to Murtagh, he changed the subject 
by saying severely : 

“ I hear, sir, that you have been at your old tricks 
again, stealing fruit from the garden.” 

“You heard wrong, then,” returned Murtagh, his brow 
lowering. 

“ Don’t add untruth to your other misdeeds ; you were 
seen by one of the policemen. It is useless to deny it.” 

' “ Gentlemen don’t tell lies,” returned Murtagh, with a 
sneering accentuation of the words that made them 
nothing less than insulting. Adrienne was shocked and 
astonished at the scene. From where she sat on the 
window-sill, behind Mr. Plunkett, she looked across at 
Murtagh, while Mr. Plunkett answered angrily : 

“What do you mean by speaking to me in such a 
manner ? ” 

Murtagh’s eyes met Adrienne’s, and perhaps the 
expression that he found there made some impression 
on him. His features relaxed a little, and he remained 
silent. 

Mr. Plunkett continued : “ I am tired of speaking of 
this robbing of the garden. I see nothing but strong 
measures are of any use, and I give you fair warning 
that the next time any of you are caught in the -garden 
you shall be severely punished.” Mr. Plunkett evidently 
intended his words to end the conversation, but Murtagh 
looked blacker than ever, and some answer as bitter as 
the last trembled on his lips. Before he had time to 
speak, however, Adrienne exclaimed innocently: 

“ Why, how the time is going ! Don’t let me keep 
you all in-doors. I must unpack a little, and write a 


32 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


letter ; but if you will go out now I will join you as soon 
as I am ready.” 

Murtagh looked perversely inclined to stay where he 
was, but an appealing glance from Adrienne persuaded 
him to follow the :>thers, who rushed at once into the 
passage. 

“Those children are running perfectly wild,” said Mr. 
Plunkett ; “ they make their own laws, and are the 
annoyance of every one in the place. It is little short 
of madness to keep them here under the present condi- 
tions ; but Winnie and Murtagh suffered severely from 
fever in India, and Mr. Launcelot Blair refuses to send 
them to school. It is mistaken treatment. The disci- 
pline of school would be far better for them tlian the 
riotous life they lead. But it is, of course, for their 
parents to decide.” 

“Do they do no lessons at all?” asked Adrienne. 

“They do nothing useful. Miss Blair,” said Mr. 
Plunkett severely. Then changing the subject with a 
decision that showed he wished to say no more upon the 
matter, he returned to his former measured courteous 
manner ; and after a little further conversation, he. 
wished Adrienne “Good morning,” and left her to write 
her letters. 

Whatever Mr. Plunkett might think of the children, 
they had, as has been seen, no high opinion of him. On 
this occasion they were no sooger well outside the 
school-room than Bobbo relieved his feelings by exclaim- 
ing: 

“ Oh, that brute Plunkett ! wouldn’t I like to punch 
his head ! ” 

“ It ’s no good thinking about him. Myrrh,” said 
Winnie, seeing that the black look had not faded from 
Murtagh’s face. “ Let ’s do something. Shall we go 
and steal some more apples ? I am awfully hungry.” 

“Oh, no ! ” said Rosie, “ don’t let us do that ; but I ’ll 
tell you what ’ll be fun. Let ’s get some brown cake 
from Donnie, and go and boil potatoes on one of the 
islands.” 


CASTLE BLAIIt. 


33 


Winnie agreeing, the little girls ran off to the kitchen ; 
and Bobbo, left alone with Murtagh, returned to his 
subject. 

“I say, Murtagh,” he continued, ‘^we must just do 
something to that old Plunkett. He ’s getting worse and 
worse.” 

“I think I ’ll kill him some day ! ” burst out Murtagh, 
with such concentrated passion in his voice that Bobbo 
looked at him quite startled, and paused for a minute 
before he answered : 

^ “I don’t vote for killing, exactly. But- 1 ’d like to dip 
him in the river, or do something or other that would 
just take him down a peg.” 

But Murtagh did not seem disposed to talk any more 
about it at that moment. He thrust. his hands deep into 
his pockets and slowly followed the others to^the kitchen, 
M^iere Mrs. Donegan was buttering slices of brown cake, 
and at the same time declaring that “she wasn’t going 
to be getting them into bad habits of eating between 
their meals.” 


CHAPTER HI. 

A DRIENNE’S letters were very quickly written. 

She was anxious to go out to the children, and to 
make acquaintance with the place. But when she went 
to look for them they were nowhere to be found. 

Enchanted with the place, which, neglected as it was, 
seemed to her very beautiful, she wandered about for a 
time in the pleasure ground and shrubberies that lay at 
the back of the house ; and then, tempted by the lovely 
brightness of the morning, she set off to make further 
discoveries. 

Land seemed to be no consideration in that part of 
the world ; a wide park, dotted with trees and clustering 
bushes, lay stretched out on three sides of the house. 

3 


34 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


The grass was too wet to cross after yesterday’s rain, 
but a sunny avenue, winding away between old thorns 
and oaks, offered a charming walk, and as Adrienne 
went along she looked around her in delight. 

On the left the ground sloped down to the bed of a 
broad rocky stream, which wound about and flowed, as 
she knew, past that end of the house in which was the 
big window of the school-room. To the right, undulating 
park-land stretched for some distance, and, beyond the 
park, trees and fields and hedges seemed to grow closer 
and closer together, till out of the indistinctness rose 
suddenly a bold line of purple hills. In the park, soft- 
eyed cows were cropping the autumn grass. Thrushes 
were singing in the thorns. Red haws lay scattered in 
profusion under the trees. The air was pure, and the 
earth smelt sweet after the rain. 

Adrienne ’was so glad the place was pretty that for 
more than half a mile she walked along, just enjoying it- 
and thinking of nothing else. She had for the moment 
forgotten the children, when, enticed by a little side 
path, she turned off the avenue and came suddenly upon 
a child standing on tiptoe in the wet grass, and stretching 
up in a vain endeavor to reach a branch of roseberries 
that hung temptingly out from a clump of bushes. She 
was not the least like the children Adrienne had seen 
hitherto. A sylph-like, tender little thing, she looked as 
though a sudden gust of wind would blow her right 
away. And then she was carefully dressed ; the golden 
hair that hung down to her waist was neatly brushed, 
and the hand stretched up to the roseberries was cased 
.n a warm cloth glove. 

Adrienne stepped on to the grass and succeeded in 
reaching the branch. Blushing and surprised the little 
girl thanked her with a sweet smile. At the same 
moment a voice exclaimed, “ Marion, Marion, for good- 
ness sake come off that sopping grass ! ” and looking up, 
Adrienne perceived a lady, in a shiny black silk gown, 
who with an anxious face was hurrying down the path. 

“Let me see your f'^et,” she continued, coming up to 


CASTLE BLAIE. 


35 


them and taking Marion’s hand as the child stepped 
obediently on to the path. “Yes, they ’re soaking wet ! 
You must come back and change them at once ! I beg 
your pardon, Miss Blair,” she added, looking up .at 
Adrienne. “ I know I ought to have spoken to you 
first, but this child is so delicate she keeps me in a 
perpetual fright. How could you think of going on the 
grass, Marion ? ” 

“I ’m so sorry, mother,” replied the child in her sweet 
little voice, “ I quite forgot.” 

. “ Well, well, come back and change as quickly as 

you can, and perhaps there ’ll be no harm done. And 
you. Miss Blair, I am sure your feet must be wet too ! 
Will you come in, and let me have your boots dried in 
the kitchen ? The house is quite close. I am Mrs. 
Plunkett.” 

The 'last piece of information came out with an odd 
little confused jerk. It was an after-thought for which 
Adrienne was grateful ; she had not the slightest idea 
who her newly-made acquaintance might be. 

“ Thank you,” she said ; “ I don’t think my feet are 
at all wet. I was only on the grass for a moment.” 

“Ah ! but you don’t know this climate ; it is most 
treacherous ; you have no idea how the wet penetrates. 
Marion, don’t bring that litter into the house, there ’s a 
good child.” As she spoke she pulled the branch of 
roseberries out of Marion’s hand and threw it away, 
continuing in the meantime without a single full stop 
between her sentences : “ There ’s nothing more danger- 
ous than wet feet, I can assure you — I lost my poor 
sister through nothing in the world but that, — and Mr. 
Plunkett’s mother often said, ‘ anything else you please, 
James, but no wet feet, I beg.’ ” 

It was difficult to find suitable answers to such re- 
marks, but Mrs. Plunkett did not require answers ; she 
was like a cuckoo clock, once pull the weight down and 
she went perfectly by herself. 

Marion looked regretfully after her pretty red branch, 
but she said nothing, and Mrs. Plunkett continued to 


CASTLE BLAIB. 


36 


relate anecdotes of people who had died from the con- 
sequences of wet feet, till a few more turns in the path 
brought them to the back of a neat-looking house and 
garden. 

“ Pray walk in,” said Mrs. Plunkett, throwing open 
the gate. And in a minute or two more, Adrienne, good- 
humoredly helpless in the hands of the fussy little 
woman, found herself sitting without her boots in a 
wicker arm-chair beside the nursery fire. A beautiful 
nursery it was — a real honest nursery, where it would 
seem impossible for children to be anything but healthy 
and happy ; beautiful, not from any special luxury of 
furniture, but by its exquisite Cleanliness. The white 
boarded floor was as spotless as scrubbing could make 
it ; the brass knobs of the fireplace glittered in the sun- 
light ; 'the window-panes could not have been more 
brilliantly transparent. 

Two little children in white pinafores were playing with 
wooden bricks on the floor. Marion, perched on a 
chair on the other side of the fireplace, stretched out 
two little blue-stockinged feet to the blaze ; and while 
Nurse took the boots down stairs, the clean fat baby 
was transferred to Adrienne’s lap. 

Finding that Adrienne was fond of children, Mrs. 
Plunkett grew confidential over the sayings and doings 
of her own four ; and then suddenly interrupting her- 
self in the midst of a description of little Johnnie’s 
appearance when he had the measles, she exclaimed in a 
tone half-curious, half-confidential : 

“ But your cousins. Miss Blair ! Have they left you 
alone already ? I should have thought they would have 
liked to show you the place. Ah, it ’s very sad to see 
children lead such lives.” 

“ Yes,” said Adrienne, trying to disengage her hair 
from the convulsive grasp with which Master Baby had 
seized upon one of the coils, “ it is almost the same as 
though they had neither father nor mother, poor little 
things.” 

“ It is their owm fault, I assure you ; entirely their 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


37 


own fault. For shame, baby ! is that the way you treat 
ladies who are kind enough to nurse you, sir } Mr. 
Plunkett and I were prepared to take' every interest in 
then\,” she continued, bending over Adrienne, and help- 
ing to extricate her hair from baby’s fat, rosy fingers. 
“ We were away for our summer trip when Murtagh and 
Winnie first arrived. Poor little Marion was the only 
one we had then, and we were very near losing her that 
same summer. You would never suppose, would you, 
that she ’s nearly four years older than any of these ; 
she ’s such a little mite to look at. When we came 
back, we found that that poor foolish Mrs. Donegan had 
already done a great deal of harm. There now, Master 
Baby, keep your hands to yourself, sir. 

The two children were making themselves ill with 
pining, and she encouraging them, and letting them do 
every mortal thing they liked, under the pretence that 
they must be amused. My husband saw at once that it 
was his duty to remonstrate ; he was quite shocked to 
see the way things were going. And I ’m sure it was 
enough to shock any one to see those two children, with 
their heads cropped after the fever, and their wizened 
yellow faces, and their little sticks of arms ; they were 
enough to frighten one. I assure you I scarcely liked 
to look much at them just at that time. 

“ They had suffered so terribly from fever that Mr. 
Launcelot insisted upon their having what he called 
perfect i^st. He would not even allow them to have a 
governess. He said that their brains were too active, 
and that the thing he most desired to hear of them was 
that they were growing as ignorant as the village chil- 
dren. Some people certainly have queer fancies, and 
he, of all people in the world, so clever as he is ! Well, 
I hope he ’s satisfied now. 

“ But my husband was determined to do his duty by 
them. He spoke sharply to Mrs. Donegan about her 
behavior, and there were most unpleasant scenes be- 
tween them. She came down here one evening and said 
the most dreadful things. She told me myself, Miss 


38 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


Blair, that he ought to be ashamed to be so hard on i^or 
little fatherless, motherless children, who were pining 
for a bit of love. I remember her expression quite 
well ; I was quite upset after she went away. But my 
husband never minds those things. He does his duty, 
and he doesn’t mind what anybody says. He spoke to 
Murtagh himself next day, and told him how sinful it 
was to give way like that to every fanciful feeling that 
came over him, — one minute pining and miserable, and 
the next rampaging like wild animals all about every- 
where, not minding a word anybody said to them. But 
it was all no use : Murtagh wouldn’t answer a word, and 
from that day to this they ’ve just gone on growing 
worse and worse. 

“ My husband has tried severity with them ; but Mr. 
Blair doesn’t like to hear of their being punished, and 
James hesitates to take the responsibility entirely upon 
himself. If they were his own children he ’d soon bring 
them to order. But why should he hesitate to take the 
responsibility? that is what I ask him. He manages 
all Mr. Launceiot’s business matters the same as he 
does Mr. Blair’s. Mr. Launcelot trusts him just as 
much as Mr. Blair does, and he gave him full authority 
to do whatever he thought needful for them. 

“ He worries himself about those children ten times 
as much as he ’s ever had occasion to worry about his 
own. Why, their governesses alone have given him 
more trouble than all his own servants put together, and 
it isn’t a bit of use, as I ’m always telling him. What ’s 
the good of worrying about other people’s children ? 
They are not one bit grateful. I really believe. Miss 
Blair, that they hate him ; I believe those children hate 
every one ; there ’s never been one day’s peace since 
they ’ve been here.” 

Exhausted by her own vehemence, Mrs. Plunkett 
paused to take breath, and Marion, profiting by the 
opportunity, said in a slow gentle way that seemed years 
older than her little'self : “ I don’t think they hate me, 

mother.” 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


39 


“ What do you know about it, child ? ’’ asked Mrs. 
Plunkett. 

“Because,^’ said Marion, raising her eyes from the 
fire to hei mother’s face, “ I looked at them in church, 
and a butterfly flew in, and went on the side of Mur- 
tagh’s nose, and I laughed, and he laughed too, quite 
kind.^^ 

Adrienne could not help smiling at the earnest, half- 
pleading tone in which the child spoke, but Mrs. Plun- 
kett said : “ Nonsense, Maimy, you don’t know any- 

thing about it ! No ; I don’t believe there ’s any one in 
this world they care one bit about, except it is little 
Frankie.” 

As Mrs. Plunkett enunciated for the second time her 
disbelief in the children’s powers of affection, some one 
called from down-stairs, “ Marion ! Maimy ! ” 

“ It ’s father ! ” exclaimed the child, springing off her 
chair. “Back already! Yes, father, I’m coming. 
Nurse, my slippers please, quick I ” 

‘ But nurse had gone down-stairs to fetch the dried 
boots, and while Marion went to the cupboard to find 
her own slippers, a firm regular step quickly ascended 
the staircase, and Mr. Plunkett entered the nursery, 
holding in his hand the very branch of roseberries which 
had brought about all the wet feet. 

Adrienne had been surprised at the voice in which 
Marion’s name had been called ; it was scarcely to be 
recognized as belonging to the stern man she had seen 
that morning. But she was still more surprised to see 
the soft beaming welcome that broke out over little 
Marion’s face as her father entered the room. 

She was sitting on the floor, putting on her slippers, 
one little blue leg stretched out, the other doubled up to 
enable her to button her shoe-strap. She did not jump 
up to kiss her father, but she turned her face up towards 
him, with a sweet glad look in her eyes. 

“Are you going to have dinner with ns after all, 
Fardie ? ” she asked. 

“Yes,” he replied, looking down with a smile at the 


40 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


upturned face. “ I ’m going to dine here to-day. I 
• shall go to the farms to-morrow instead. See,” he con- 
tinued, holding out towards her the branch of roseberries, 
“ I Ve brought you something pretty. It was lying in 
the middle of the path, and I thought it would please 
you.” 

“ Why, it ’s my own branch ! How could you know it 
was just what I wanted ? ” 

The shoe was fastened by this time, so she got up 
from the floor, holding the branch of roseberries in one 
hand, and slipped the other hand into her father’s. 
Then he perceived Adrienne. A few polite sentences 
were interchanged ; the boots were brought ; baby was 
given into Nurse’s arms ; and Adrienne, wishing them 
all “(lood morning,” walked back along the avenue, her 
pretty golden head as full as it would hold of thoughts 
about all these new people. 

She was destined to have further lights on the subject 
of her little cousins’ behavior, however, that morning. 

As she approached the house she foutid that the hall- 
door was shut, and passing round to the back in order 
to find another entrance, she ventured to open what 
seemed to her like a kitchen door. It was not the door 
of the kitchen. She found herself on the threshold of a 
large, airy room, littered all over with clothes in various 
stages of washing, drying, and ironing. Mrs. Donegan, 
with her sleeves tucked up, was busy ironing print frocks 
at a large table near the fire ; and at the sound of the 
door opening she exclaimed : 

“ Do, for goodness’ sake, shut that door, Kate. Why 
ever don’t you stop in the kitchen and attend to your 
dinner.?” 

“ It ’s not Kate,” said Adrienne ; “ I came round this 
way because the hall-door was shut. May I come in ? ” 

Mrs. Donegan looked up, and grew quite red with 
confusion as she discerned her mistake. 

“Oh, Ma’am, I beg your pardon!” she exclaimed, 
setting down her iron and coming forward to meet 
Adrienne. “ I ’m sure I never thought to see you here, 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


41 


and the laundry in such a mess too ; of a Friday there is 
so much to do. Walk in, Ma’am, if you please.” 

“ Please don’t let me disturb you,” said Adrienne, as 
she shut the door. “Can I get through to the house 
this way? ” 

“Yes, Ma’am,” replied Mrs. Donegan, taking up her 
iron again, “it’s always through here or through the 
kitchen the children come.” 

“ Have they come back yet?” asked Adrienne. 

“ Lord, no. M a’am 1 they were in the kitchen with me 
this morning, getting some bits of griddle-cake to go off 
with somewhere, an’ if they’re back to dinner it’s as 
much as they ’ll be.” 

“You can’t tell me where to find them, can you?” 
suggested Adrienne. 

“Tell you where to find them!” exclaimed Mrs. 
Donegan, pushing her spectacles up on her forehead, 
and pausing in her work to look at Adrienne. “ It ’s 
plain you don’t know much about their ways yet. Ma’am. 
Maybe it ’s up the mountains they are, or maybe up the 
river, or maybe across -the fields, five miles away by this 
time. But wherever it is, ye might look for them a 
month o’ Sundays, and never find them if ye ’re wanting 
them ; and so sure as ye ’re not wanting them they ’ll 
turn up fast enough, bless their hearts ! ” 

“ They live out of doors a great deal, don’t they ? ” 
asked Adrienne, smiling at Mrs. Donegan’s description 
of their proceedings. 

“ God bless you, yes. Ma’am. They ’d never be con- 
fined with stoppin’ in a house, but out and about, no 
matter what weather it is. They’re a bit wild like, but 
they ’re-the best-hearted children ever lived. But won’t 
you sit down. Ma’am,” added Mrs. Donegan, interrupt- 
ing herself to set a chair near the table. 

“ If I stay may I help you ? ” asked Adrienne, attracted 
to the free-spoken old woman, and very willing to stay 
and talk to her. “I can tnyai^fer these frills. I don’t 
know what that word is in English.” 

She took up a pair of gaufreing tongs as she spoke, 


42 


CASTLE BLAIE. 


and Mrs. Done^an looked amused at the notion of h(a 
help. 

“ Sure you don’t know anything about such work, an’ 
it ’s not so easy as it looks. But you may try if you like, 
Miss,” she added good-humoredly, dropping the more 
formal “ Ma’am,” and from that time forth adopting 
Adrienne as one of the children of the house. 

Adrienne, all unconscious of the greatness of the 
concession Mrs. Donegan had made in allowing her to 
touch her linen, laid her hat on one side, and in another 
minute was sitting gaufreing pillow-case frills in so 
business-like a manner that Mrs. Donegan, looking on 
critically, exclaimed after a minute or two : 

“Upon my word, Miss, you do it better than I do it 
myself.” 

Adrienne laughed, and Mrs. Donegan, going back to 
her w'ork, returned to the current of her thoughts. 

“I could tell you more about those children than 
anybody else that’s here,” she continued. “But what- 
ever you do. Miss, don’t you go to believe anything Mr. 
Plunkett says about them. It ’s not the like of him can 
understand these children. Wasn’t I here in the nursery 
in old Mrs. Blair’s time, and nursemaid to Mr. Launcelot 
himself? I know what Master Launce was when his 
mother died, and I know what sort his children ’s come 
of. And they’re Mr. Launcelot’s children to the very 
backbone ; that they are. Miss, as you ’ll see when you 
come to know them better. Master Harry was always 
quieter, but you ’re not much like him. Miss, except 
when you laugh you have a look of him about the eyes, 
I think.” 

Mrs. Donegan liked to talk, but she liked to talk after 
her own fashion, so before Adrienne could hear anything 
about the children she had to listen to a panegyric upon 
their father, which wound up with an account of how he 
married Mrs. Launcelot, who was “very nice for the 
matter of that ; a Catholic too she is, just like your own 
mother. Miss, at d a perfect lady, Mr. Launcelot wouldn’t 
have married none other, but a little, gentle, delicate bit 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


43 


of a thing, who had a French maid to look after her, and 
let the children do whatever they pleased.” 

Then, and not till then, Adrienne was told that Mr. 
and Mrs. Launcelot had been in India now nearly seven 
years, and how Winnie and Murtagh had been sent 
home four years ago. “And Mr. Launcelot wrote me a 
letter with his o.vn hand,” added Donnie, “asking me to 
take care of his two little orphans till he came himself 
to fetch them ; and he told me to ‘mother them, when 
they were lonely, the way I ’d mothered him long ago 
when he needed it’ Those were his very words. Many 
an’ many a tim^ I ’ve read the letter. And when I saw 
the poor little things drooping and pining, I used to 
think o’ the night, thirty-two years ago now come 
Michaelmas, when the poor missis died, an’ I crep’ into 
the nursery after the old nurse was asleep, an’ Master 
Launce was sobbing in his bed ; and when I tried to 
comfort him like, he knelt up in his little nightgown an’ 
put his two arms round about my neck, — and, ‘Oh, 
Biddy,’ says he, ^what shall I do now.?”’ Donnie’s tears 
were running down at the remembrance. 

“ And he laid his head upon my shoulder, and he was 
that tired out with crying that after a bit he fell asleep 
kneeling up against me there ; an’ I carried him away 
into my own bed, and kept him warm till the morning. 
And then,” she continued, indignantly sniffing away her 
tears, “ tell me I don't know what I ’m doing with his 
children. Deed, faith, I know a deal better than them 
as tells me such nonsense.” 

“ They were very lonely when they first came, were 
they not ? ” said Adrienne, remembering Murtagh’s 
words of the evening before. 

“ Deed they were ! poor little lambs, sick and lonely 
en High ; they scarce cared to do anything like, and I 
ne/er could get them off my mind. Then after a bit, 
when the summer came, they used to go off whole days 
up the mountains ; and when I saw that pleased them I 
used to give them their dinner to take with them, and 
then they took to rampaging about, and I began to grow 


44 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


easier, bless their hearts ! For there ’s nothing like it, 
take my word for it. Miss. 

“ When Miss Rose and Master Bobbo were sent over 
after with the baby — Miss Ellie that is — they were 
every bit as yellow and skinny like as Master Murtagh 
and * Miss Winnie ; and where would you see finer, 
heartier-looking children now than the four of them ? 
I hn not for cossetting children too much. Give ’em 
plenty of good fresh air, and plenty o’ good food, and 
let ’em alone, that ’s what I say. Stuff o’ rubbish, con- 
fining them an’ regulatin’ ’em ! Time enough for that 
by-an’-by when they go to school.” * 

“ But don’t you think,” said Adrienne, looking up 
with a smile, that now th’ey have had the fresh air and 
the food they might have just a little learning too, with- 
out doing them any harm ? ” 

“ Well,” replied Donnie, with the air of one willing to- 
make concessions, “ I don’t say but what they might 
have a governess, and let them do a bit of learning every 
day. But when they first came Mr. Launcelot said they 
wasn’t to be allowed to see a book at all, but running 
about wild in the good mountain air ; and quite right he 
was too. And since then they begged so hard not to 
have a governess in the house, that Mr. Blair giv’ in to 
them, and got them governesses from Ballyboden. 

“ But what with one thing and another they never 
stay. One says it ’s too far to come every day, and an- 
other says she can’t manage the children, an’ the last 
went away close upon three months ago because Mr. 
Murtagh slipped a handful of hailstones down her back. 
But, Lord ! it doesn’t signify ; they weren’t any good, 
when they did come ; they hadn’t got the wit to teach 
these children. 

“ They tell me there ’ll be a real clever German 
governess got next year, when the young gentlemen go 
to school. But it don’t make much matter one way or 
the other. If they never got a governess at all, there ’s 
no fear but what Mr. Launcelot’s children would be 
plenty clever enough. They may be a bit wild-like, but 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


45 


if they’ve got the good blood in them, they’ll never go 
far wrong. I ’m old, and I ’ve seen a lot o’ people one 
way or another, backwards and forwards in the world, 
an’ I tell you. Miss, you may always let the good blood 
have its way; it’s only the half-an’-half folks take such 
a deal o’ looking after. 

“Then, it isn't every one can understand that, and 
that ’s where the trouble is. With these children, now, 
3’e can manage them with a crick o’ your little finger, if 
you take them the right way. " They ’d give you the coats 
off o’ their backs and the bit out o’ their mouths if they 
thought you wanted it. But they won’t be driven; it 
isn’t a bit of use talking about it. There ’s nothing but 
gentleness is a bit o’ good with them, and that ’s where 
it is them and Mr. Plunkett is such enemies.” 

Such were Donnie’s opinions, and she descanted upon 
them at length, till Kate came to say that she thought 
it was no use waiting any longer for the children, and 
she had sent up Miss Blair’s luncheon to the dining 
room. 

Mr. Blair did not take luncheon, so Adrienne sat 
alone at the head of the big table. She spent her after- 
noon alone, too, and had plenty of leisure to decide that 
Murtagh was right; the drawing-room was a musty- 
smelling old room. She opened the windows wide, and 
filled the old china bowls and vases with flowers, and 
pushed the furniture about till the room looked more 
habitable. Then she unpacked her needlework and her 
music, and tried to occupy herself ; but finally, she was 
very glad when at half-past five Brown came to inform 
her that six o’clock was the dinner hour — an intimation 
which she took as a respectful hint that in Brown’s 
opinion it was now time for her to dress. 


46 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


CHAPTER IV. 


HE chikiren meanwhile had completely forgotten 



± the existence of their new cousin. After leaving 
the kitchen they raced along with their spoil towards the 
river. The morning was deliciously bright ; there was 
a fresh scent in the air that made them all feel inclined 
to caper about without exactly knowing why. Even 
Murtagh forgot his troubles with Mr. Plunkett, and 
raced and shouted with the others. 

Their river was a branch of a broad mountain stream, * 
but now at the end of the dry season the water did not 
come down with a steady rolling current as in the win- 
ter. It came trickling, sparkling, dancing between the 
great bits of moss-grown rock that strewed its course, 
finding for itself thousands of little channels, tumbling 
unexpectedly from time to time head over heels down 
the side of a big stone, and then lying still and clear in 
pools sheltered by the rocks. Only in the very middle 
was there anything like a real current, and there the 
water flowed swiftly along in uneve,n ripples, slapping 
up against obtrusive rocks with a ruffle of white spray 
that made the delight of the children. 

But what was not a delight in that river ? There was 
simply no end to its resources. There was the water to 
splash and paddle in, with stones for those who liked to 
practice hardening their feet, and patches of sand where 
one could enjoy that delicious half-tickling sensation of 
feet sinking and sand oozing up between all one’s toes; 
then there were the pools for sailing boats ; and the 
current in the middle for floating hats, with all the fun 
of not being quite sure whether they could be caught in 
time. 


CASTLE BLAIIt. 


47 


And the rocks covered over with thick sunny moss 
tliat seemed to grow on purpose for warming cold feet, 
and all the wonderful things that were to be found in the 
river, — things that came floating down, things that 
grew, and things that had got there somehow. Then 
th^re were the islands ; the river’s course was dotted 
with them. And then there were the trout and the 
minnows. 

It was to one of the islands that the children were 
going now. Notwithstanding the heavy rain of the pre- 
ceding afternoon the night had been fine, and when the 
children got down upon the beach they found their be- 
loved river a little fuller perhaps and rather more 
energetic in its twirls and dashes, but just as bright and 
as tempting as it always was on these lovely autumn 
mornings. The water looked like clear brown crystal 
in the sunlight, and soon everything was forgotten in the 
excitement of looking for trout. It was one of their 
favorite occupations ; but not a fish did they see this 
morning, till, just as they were crossing the stepping- 
stones to a little island, Winnie pulled Murtagh’s jacket, 
and pointed silently to where a great fellow lay under a 
rock,' the sun shining on his spotted side. ' 

“ Golly loo ! ” whispered Murtagh, “ isn’t he a 
beauty ? ” 

They stood a minute watching, but the trout scarcely 
moved. 

“ I say, how still he keeps,” whispered Winnie : “ I 
believe I could catch him in my hands.” 

In a minute she had set her saucepan down on the 
stone, had pulled oft' her shoes and stockings, and was 
cautiously stepping into the water. The icy cold of it 
made her screw up her eyes, but on she went trying to 
make as little splash as possible. Still the trout never 
moved. Murtagh’s interest was intense; he could 
scarcely refrain from giving vent to his excitement in a 
shout. Winnie could hardly believe her own good for- 
tune. She got close up behind the trout ; she bent 
down; her hands were just closing on it, when, — there 


48 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


was a tremendous splash behind her, and in an instant 
the trout had whisked far away out of sight. She closed 
her hands with a convulsive grasp at its tail, but it was 
no use, — it was clean gone. 

Even Winnie’s equanimity was upset by such a dis- 
appointment. 

“You little idiot, Murtagh! you might have waited 
till I ’d caught him,” she said, angrily. 

“ I beg your pardon awfully, Winnie,” said Murtagh, 
who with both legs up to the knees in water was sitting 
npon the rock a picture of abject penitence \ “ I ’m 
dreadfully sorry. I didn’t do it on purpose. I was 
watching you, and I didn’t see I was come to the edge 
of the stone.” 

“Who said you did it on purpose?” replied Winnie 
unappeased. “You might have looked where you ^yere 
going.” 

“ I ’m awfully sorry,” repeated Murtagh. 

But Winnie didn’t feel as if she could forgive him 
yet. She turned away in silence, and occupied herself 
with rescuing from the water her boots and stockings, 
which had of course been kicked off the stone when 
Murtagh slipped. 

By the time she had done that, she had recovered 
herself a little ; and presently, having fished out the gar- 
ters, she turned round again and said with something 
very like a twinkle in her eye : 

“ As you threw it in you may fetch it out.” 

She pointed as she spoke to where the saucepan lay 
on the bottom of the pool. Murtagh having employed 
himself in taking off his wet boots and stockings, 
hooked it out cleverly with his foot ; then Winnie slung 
boots and stockings and saucepan all on a garter round 
her neck, and tucking up her frock said quite cheerily : 

“ Never mind; come along, and let’s see if we can’t 
catch him somewhere else.” 

Just at that moment a shout arose from the other side 
of the island, and Bobbo, bursting through the bushes, 
exclaimed in breathless delight that Rosie had caught a 


kJASTLE BLAIR. 


49 


trout “ in her hands in the water.” Winnie told her 
of her disappointment. 

“ What/s up with the trout, I wonder ? ” said Bobbo. 
“Generally they’re off like lightning if you so much as 
look at them. By the Holy Poker, there ’s another ! ” 
he added, suddenly beginning to strip off his shoes and 
stockings, while Murtagh practically suggested that some 
one had been throwing lime into the water. 

But Winnie’s sharp eyes saw the trout as soon as 
Bobbo, and she had the start of him, being already in 
the water; so, signing to the others to be quiet, she 
advanced cautiously up stream till she got close behind 
it, Bobbo pausing meanwhile with one boot in his hand 
to watch her success. Then, bending down, she quickly 
clasped her little brown hands under the trout, and with 
a successful jerk threw it high and dry on to a sunny bit 
of rock. 

“ Hurrah ! ” shouted Murtagh. “ She ’s got it. Come 
along, Bobbo ; off with your other boot, and let ’s go up 
the river and try for some more.” 

“ What shall we do with Ellie ? ” asked Rose. “ There ’s 
no beach a little higher up where the river gets narrower, 
and she’ll never be able to jump from one rock to 
another.” 

The children were far too much excited to pay great 
attention to such a trifle. 

“ Oh, she must manage somehow ! ” said Winnie. 
“Come along. Pull off your boots and socks, Ellie, 
there ’s a good child, and don’t be afraid of the water, it 
won’t hurt you.” 

Ellie looked very doubtfully at her feet, and then at 
the water, as if she did not at all like the prospect; 
however, Rosie didn’t wait for her to make objections, 
but, pulling off the little boots, lifted her down into the 
stream, and then waded off herself after the others. 

Ellie had her own ideas of duty, and knew what was 
expected of her when she was out with people bigger and 
stronger than herself ; so after one shuddering oxclama- 
4 


50 


CASTLE BLAIB. 


tion of dismay as her feet first touched the water, she 
tried bravely to do as the others did. 

But she found it very hard work. The water was 
bitterly cold, and where it was only deep enough to come 
a few inches above the other children’s ankles it was 
already nearly up to her knees. She saw that the others 
twisted up their frocks, so she tried to twist hers up too, 
but she could only get up one little bit at a time, and the 
rest dabbled against her legs. Soon the hem was all 
wet, and her petticoats were wet, and the frills of her 
little white knickerbockers were wet. She was cold all 
over. The pebbles at the bottom hurt her feet. And 
then she didn’t seem to get along one bit. 

For a while she held tight on to the bit of frock that 
she was lifting up so boldly in front, and tried to encour- 
age herself from time to time by saying half-aloud, “ Elbe 
can walk in the river too, Elbe can ; ” but the big blue 
eyes often filled \\bth tears, and her little stock of heroism 
began soon to melt away. 

At last there came a bend in the river; the water 
grew deeper ; and Elbe, getting into a place where there 
was a slight current, was very nearly taken ofi her legs. 
She saved herself by catching at a rock, but when she 
looked up to call one of the others to help her she found 
that they were out of sight. 

That was more than she could bear. She was all lost 
now, and she never would be able to get out of the river 
any more, and it was no good trying to be brave, so she 
gave it all up, and sobbing out, “ Oh, me is so told ! me 
is so told ! ” she laid her head down on the rock and 
began to cry at the very tip top. of her voice. 

The others meanwhile had completely forgotten her. 
The fish were, as Murtagh thought, stupefied with lime, 
but not so stupefied as to be incapable of trying to save 
themselves from pursuing hands. The chase after them 
raised the children’s spirits to the highest pitch. The 
banks of the river were wild and more or less wooded. 
All civilization might have been miles away. 

Not a soul did the children pass, except one disconso- 


GASTLE BLAin. 


51 


late-looking little girl sitting upon the bank. But, bare- 
legged and bare-armed, their hats hanging down upon 
their backs, their hair blown wildly about, with sparkling 
eyes and laughing faces, they splashed along in the 
bright cold water, or jumped from rock to rock to warm 
their feet, oblivious of everything in this world save the 
speckled trout for which they looked so eagerly in the 
clear brown pools by the rocks. Fortunately for Elbe, 
however, the thought of her flashed at last through 
Murtagh’s mind. 

“Why, Rosie,” he exclaimed, “what’s become of 
Elbe ? she ’s not in sight.” 

The reflection caused some dismay for a moment 
among the children ; but Bobbo volunteered to go back 
and fetch her, so they comfortably concluded that it was 
all right, and troubled themselves no further. Back he 
went accordingly, and Elbe’s loud-voiced grief soon 
guided him to the spot where she stood. But when he 
had got there, and comforted her, and rubbed her chilled 
legs warm again, and wrung the water out of her skirt, 
and robed up her damp knickerbockers, he found that it 
was all very web, but she had had enough of trying to 
be heroic, and nothing would induce her to enter the 
water again. 

It was a difliculty that he had not counted upon, but 
there was no getting over it, — coaxing and scolding were 
alike in vain. Good-natured as he was, he was not going 
to lose his share in the fishing ; and moreover, he was 
accustomed to solve all difficulties in the readiest manner 
that came to hand ; so, putting her on his back, he just 
waded to shore, and trotted along the bank till he over- 
took the other children. They could settle together 
what was to be done with her. ♦ 

He found them in a state of wild excitement. Winnie 
had that instant caught another fish, and Rosie, opening 
the skirt of her dress which she had gathered up as a 
bag, displayed three shining trout caught by herself and 
Murtagh. 

“ That ’s five altogether ! ” shouted Murtagh. “ And 


52 


CASTLE BLAin. 


we’re going up to Long Island, and we’ll light a fire 
there and cook them. Rosie ’s got the cake and things 
tied up in her hat, so it ’s not a bit wet, and that ’ll be 
loads for our dinner.” 

“ Oh, that will be glorious ! ” cried Bobbo. “ But 
look -here, I say, Myrrh, what ’ll we do with Ellie ? she 
can’t get along a bit in the water.” 

“Couldn’t you take lier through the woods?” sug- 
gested Rosie. 

“ And miss all the fishing on the way up ! ” replied 
Bobbo. “ Thank you, I ’ve missed enough of the fun 
already. I think it’s your turn now.” 

“ Oh, no, indeed it isn’t,” replied Rosie. “ I have her 
all day long. It ’s only fair that you boys should have 
the trouble of her sometimes.” 

“ It ’s always women who look after the babies,” said 
Murtagh. 

“Well, I’m not going to this time,” said Rosie 
decidedly. “ It really is too bad that our pleasure is 
always spoilt with having to think about that tiresome 
child.” 

Little Elbe’s head began to droop on to Bobbo’s 
shoulder, as she looked anxiously at the children’s faces. 
She was somewhat oppressed by a sense of her own 
wickedness in refusing to go into the water again, and 
she felt that Rosie’s reproach was not altogether unde- 
served. Still, though she was accustomed to be called 
tiresome, she did not like it ; and besides, a terrible 
fear was arising in her mind that Rosie would make 
them leave her alone. The question was perplexing. 
Whatever Ellie might think, the children knew that 
they couldn’t leave her there alone ; but then they really 
could not give up their delightful expedition, and they 
were none of them at all inclined to start off alone with 
her through the woods. What was to be done ? 

Suddenly a brilliant idea struck Winnie. 

“ That girl we saw sitting on the bank ! ” she 
exclaimed. “ I think I know her ; I think she comes 
out of one of our cottages. Let ’s get her to take Ellie 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


53 


through the woods. We ’ll give her some of our dinner 
when we get up to the island, and it ’ll be great fun for 
her.” 

No sooner suggested than agreed to, and springing 
lightly from rock to rock Winnie quickly disappeared in 
the direction she had pointed out. 


CHAPTER V. 



ITHOUT being put in the least out of breath by 


vv her rapid course she reached the spot, and find- 
ing the girl still sitting there plunged at once into con- 
versation by saying : 

1 think you live in one of our cottages, don ’t you } 
What ’s your name, please ? ” 

But the answer, “ Theresa Curran,” was given in 
such a miserable voice that Winnie paused and looked 
at her with some attention. 

The girl did not look up, but remained sitting with 
her elbows on her knees, and her face supported on her 
hands, staring in front of her as though Winnie were 
not there. Her face was tear-stained, her eyelids 
swollen with crying, and there was a look of despairing 
wretchedness in her face which made Winnie feel that 
“ she could not go on with her message. So after stand- 
ing beside her for a moment or two in silence she said ; 
“Is there anything the matter.?” 

The girl did not answer; and Winnie repeated: 
“What ’s the matter .? ” 

“ I dunno what to do at all at all,” replied the child 
drearily. 

“ Why .? ” said Winnie, “ what has happened ? ” 

Then, as though she couldn’t keep it to herself any 
longer, the girl’s grief burst forth in a passionate wail, 
and she sobbed out : “ Oh, whatever will I do, whatever 
w ill I do .? He ’ll kill me if 1 go home again.” 


54 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


“What is it?” said Winnie, somewhat awe-stricken. 
“ What have you done ? Who is it will kill you ? ” 

“ Oh, it ’s the rent ! ” sobbed the child, “ and mother 
so sick and all, and he so savage at givin’ it. He ’ll kill 
me ; I know he will. He said he would ; ” and between 
fear and grief her words became too incoherent for 
Winnie to be able to understand. 

“ Have you lost it ? ” asked Winnie. 

But the child’s grief seemed too overpowering for 
her to give any answer ; she only rocked herself back- 
wards and forwards, sobbing as if her heart would 
break. 

Winnie stood looking at her for a moment, not quite 
knowing what to do j then to her great relief Murtagh 
appeared at her side. 

“ What ’s the matter ? ” he whispered. 

“ I don’t exactly know ; somebody’s going to kill 
her,” returned Winnie.. But Murtagh’s presence made 
her feel as if she knew better what to do ; so she 
climbed up the bank, and knelt down beside the girl, 
saying : 

“ Look here, don’t cry like that. Here ’s my brother, 
and there are some more of us down there, and we 
won’t let anybody kill you. Besides, he wouldn’t kill 
you really I don’t expect.” 

“Yes, he will,” replied the girl. “He always does 
v/hat he says.” 

“ But he can’t,” said Murtagh. “ He ’ll be put in 
prison, and hanged himself if he does.” The child 
sobbed on, giving no heed to Murtagh’s words. 

“What ’s he going to kill you for ? ” asked Murtagh, 
climbing up after Winnie. 

“When I lost the goat he said he’d kill me next 
lime,” replied the child. “ Look here,” she continued, 
rapidly unfastening her frock, and displaying her bare 
neck and shoulder. “ That ’s what he did to me yester- 
day.” Then burying her face in her hands she burst 
into tears again. 

The little thin shoulder was covered with a great 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


55 


bruise all blue and red. Down the centre of it the skin 
was broken in a long zigzag crack ; the rapid movement 
of throwing off her dress had caused the blood to ooze 
out, and Winnie and Murtagh stood transfixed with 
pity and horror as they saw the dark red drops trickle 
slowly down. 

“ Oh, Win,” said Murtagh, “ what can we do ? ” 

Winnie, aher standing perfectly still for a moment 
looking at the bruise, went to the bank, and leaning 
over tried to scoop up some water in her hat. 

Rosie and Bobbo, seeing that something was the 
matter, came up. 

“Just give me my hat full of water, will you ? ” said 
Winnie, “and have either of you got a pocket-handker- 
chief ? ” 

“ What ’s the matter ? ” inquired Rosie, filling Win- 
nie’s hat for her, and handing jt up as she spoke. 

Winnie didn’t trouble herself to answer; and Rosie, 
and Bobbo, climbing up the bank, stood silent when 
they saw the wound on Theresa’s shoulder. 

Winnie dipped the handkerchief in water and gently 
bathed the bruise. 

“ How horrible ! ” said Rosie, presently. 

“Great, cowardly scoundrel,” ejaculated Murtagh. 

“ That ’s nothing,” said the girl, her grief beginning 
to subside a little under the infiuence of the children’s 
earnest sympathy. “ He nearly broke me all to pieces 
entirely, the day I lost the goat, and he said he ’d kill 
me downright next time. Oh ! and then there ’s 
mother!” she added, her tears bursting forth again. 

“ Whatever will she do ? and I daren’t go back. I 
know it ’s with that great stick he ’ll kill me, and I can’t 
bear to be killed ; 1 can’t bear it.” 

“ Don’t cry,” said Murtagh. “ You shan’t be killed. 
We ’ll protect her ; won’t we ? ” he added, turning con- 
fidently to the others. 

“That we will,” said Winnie. “Why, ye live on our 
land, don’t you } So we ’re bound to protect you even 
if we didn’t want to.” 


CASTLE liLAIlL 


^6 


“ Yez won’t be able,” replied the girl. “Ye don’t 
know what he is at all when he ’s angry. He ’d kill 
every one of you if ye came between us.” 

“What an awful man!” ejaculated Rosie, in atone 
of horror. 

“ I don’t care if he does,” said Murtagh, “you ’ll just 
see if we can’t prevent him touching you.” 

“ Because you don’t know,” said Winnie eagerly. 
“ We ’re bound up in a tribe, and we always settled 
we ’d protect everybody against people who wanted to 
prevent them being free ; and then, you live on our 
land ; that makes you one of the followers of our tribe, 
and you ’ll just see if we let him touch you.” 

“ How can yez help it ? ” said the girl, half-incredu- 
lous, but in spite of herself half convinced. 

“ Oh ! ” began Winnie, confidently. And there she 
stopped, not having as yet the slightest idea of how they 
were going to “ help it.” She consulted the others 
with her e3^es, but confronted with the practical 
difficulty, no one was able immediately to propose a 
plan. 

“ Ye don’t know what he ’s like,” said Theresa, 
the momentary flash of hope dying out of her white 
face. 

“ Who is he } ” asked Rose. “ Is he your father ? ” 

“ It ’s my step-father, and mother had such work to 
get the rent from him. And now we’ll be turned out all 
the same, an’ he’ll be that mad he won’t know what 
he ’s doing. And it ’ll just break mother’s heart, an’ 
finish her off altogether, so it will ! Oh dear, oh dear, 
oh dear ! whatever will I do ? ” 

The children looked at her in silence for a little 
while, then Rosie asked : “ Have you lost the rent.? ” 

“ Yes, down there,” she answered raising her head. 
“ I was jumpin’ over the stones goin’ across to the little 
house to pay it, an’ I ’d got the two sovereigns in my 
hand when my foot slipped, and they flew out of my 
hand into the water before ever I knew they were gone 
at all. Just in the very middle, where the water ’s run- 
nii'i’ fast, and it swept them clean away.” 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


S7 


“ I ’ll tell you what ! ” exclaimed Murtagh, who had 
been thinking deeply, “ we ’ll take her up to the island 
and hide her there ; then afterwards we ’ll manage.” 

“Yes! yes I ” cried Winnie; “of course, that’s the 
plan. How stupid of me not to think of that ! Come 
along ; let ’s go up at once for fear he might come and 
catch her here. No one’ll be able to touch you there,” ^ 
she added, turning to Theresa ; “ it ’s beautifully hidden, 
you ’ll see. And we can take you up provisions every 
day, and keep you as long as ever we like. Oh, Mur- 
tagh, what a splendid idea I ” 

“ Spiffing ! ” exclaimed Bobbo. “ Come along ; let 
us be moving up. We ’ve got a jolly lot of fish here,” 
he explained to Theresa, “ and we ’ll all have dinner 
together.” 

The children were so charmed with the notion that 
Theresa 'could not help being cheered. She still de- 
murred, wondering what would become of her sick 
mother; but the children overbore her objections, and 
in a few minutes they were all going up the river’s bank 
together. 

The fish which had before been so absorbing were 
now completely forgotten in the interest of hearing 
about Theresa’s life. Questions innumerable did the 
children ask ; and Theresa, unused to sympathy, poured 
out willingly all her woes. It was a common enough 
story, but to the children it seemed almost too terrible 
to be true ; her mother too sick to work, her step-father 
drinking nearly all he earned, and leaving them often 
for days at a time without food or money. To be 
hungry, cold, and beaten, such was her daily life. 

“ And" there ’s mother just dying away,” she added ; “ I 
heard Mrs. O’Toole saying she ’d never last out the 
winter.” 

But the kindness and the confident promises of help 
with which the children heard her story so cheered 
I'heresa, that before long she began almost to enjoy 
talking over her troubles, and was even ready to laugh 
at one or two sallies of Murtagh’s wit. 


58 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


After a time the immediate bank of the river became 
impassable. Theresa and Elbe then struck across the 
woods together, Elbe prattling about everything she 
saw, and Theresa quite absorbed by her little charge. 
The others returned to the bed of the river. Bobbo, 
who had had scarcely any fishing, suddenly caught sight of 
another trout ; the interest in the day’s amusement was 
renewed ; and so it came about that by the time they all 
met together again at Long Island not one of the whole 
party gave a thought to anything in the world but the 
Km of being on a desert island, and of getting their own 
dinner ready. 


CHAPTER VI. 


ONG ISLAND was one of the largest of the little 



islands round which the river bowed. The river 


at this part was more considerable. In the winter-time 
it was too deep to be crossed except in a boat, and even 
now, at the end of the dry season, it required some care 
and no little agility to ford it on foot. The island was 
so thickly overgrown with trees and bushes that from the 
river banks if seemed to be only an impenetrable mass 
of foliage. But the children knew better. In the 
centre of the trees and evergreens was^a little cleared 
spot, and on that little clearance their father had, many 
years ago, built a hut. 

The difficulty of approach, and the delightful loneli- 
ness of the place, formed a great attraction for the 
children ; but the charm of charms was this hut. Com- 
pletely hidden as it was, approachable only by two little 
narrow openings in the bushes, never entered by a 
creature except the children themselves, there was a 
delicious mystery about it that heightened the pleasures 
of possession ; and then, it was their very own, built by 
their father when he was a child like them, and begged 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


59 


for them by him from their uncle, who was scarcely even 
aware of its existence. It was their castle, their terri- 
tory, to do with absolutely as they pleased. 

To grown-up eyes their castle was one of the very 
queerest, most tumble-down little huts that ever was 
built, but there was no place in the world where the 
children more enjoyed playing. There was only one 
room. Its walls were built of stones of all shapes and 
sizes, more or less firmly cemented together with mud ; 
a square opening on one side served as a window ; but 
in the doorway there were still the remains of a door, 
which Murtagh and Bobho had mended so that it could 
shut and be fastened on the inside. 

On the side opposite to the window there was a chihi- 
ney, and in one of the walls there was a kind of cupboard 
where Rosie and Winnie kept a wooden bowl, four or 
five broken plates, two cups, and an old knife. Besides 
these things they had a good-sized empty box, that they 
used as a table, and five flower-pots that served as 
chairs ; also a piece of soap, an old scrubbing-brush, a 
lot of raw potatoes, and a broom which they had made 
for themselves. 

The only drawback of it all was that this island was 
too far off. There was a shorter way by the road, but 
the children always came along the river-bed, and though 
the distance was really far less than they imagined, the 
jiigh wooded banks, the desolate fields through which 
the river wound, made the course of it so lonely that 
they always felt as if they were on an expedition into the 
depths of a wild country. 

This very seclusion, however, made it all the more 
suitable to their present purpose, and to-day their sense 
of proprietorship was perhaps more delightful than, it 
had ever been before. 

For the moment, however, the grand and important 
matter was to get dinner ready, and without delay they 
set to work to collect wood for the fire. 

Then the hut had to be cleaned, for it was more than 
a month since they had last been here, and cobweb's and 


6o 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


dust abounded ; so while Rosie prepared to light the fire 
the boys went with the bowl and saucepan to bring up 
water from the river, Winnie swept out the hut, and to 
Theresa was entrusted the business of getting the fish 
ready for cooking. Ellie was sent to pick laurel leaves 
to strew the floor. “ For,” remarked Murtagh, “ to-day ’s 
a grand festival day, and our floor must be strewed with 
rushes like the ancient Britons. I ’ll be lord of the 
castle, and, Winnie, you shall be lady.” 

“ I don’t know what to do with this fire, Murtagh ! ” 
exclaimed Rose. “The three matches we had left are 
every one of them damp ; I can’t strike them.” 

“What a sell if we can’t have a fire at all!” ejacu- 
lated Bobbo. “ What ’s to be done ? ” 

“ Go down to the mill, of course, and get some 
matches from one of the men,” dictated Winnie, in her 
bright decided way. 

“Well done, my Lady Winifreda ! right as usual,” 
exclaimed Murtagh. “ Be off, you varlet I ” he continued 
in a grandiloquent tone of voice, turning to Bobbo, 

“and ” He paused a moment to find proper words, 

but fine language running short, the end of his sentence 
collapsed miserably into: “Look sharp back again.” 

“ Bring a dictionary next time,” laughed Bobbo, as he 
started off to fetch the matches. 

“ I say. Win, supposing we were to be Lord and Lady 
Macbeth,” suggested Murtagh, “and the others might 
be ancient Britons we ’ve taken prisoners.” 

“ Thank you 1 ” retorted -Winnie indignantly. “ I ’d 
rather not. And besides. Myrrh,” — this more doubtfully 
— “I don't think Macbeth was alive when the ancient 
Britons were.” 

“Yes, he was, somewhere about that time,” replied 
Murtagh, decidedly. “ Don’t you remember in the 
theatre all the people called each other ‘thou ’ and ‘thy ; ’ 
and besides, of course, I know he was. Don’t you 
remember Bruce and Wallace, and King Alfred the 
Great, and Hengist and Horsa, and all those chaps ? ” 

“Yes,” said Winnie, “so I do, of course. Oh, well, I 
suppose it ’s all right ; anyhow, it doesn’t matter.” 


CASTLE BLAIB. 


6l 


“I don’t believe it’s right,” said Rosie, “because 
Macbeth was a Scotchman, and the ancient Britons were 
ancient Britons, so they couldn’t have lived together.” 

“ That ’s rubbish ! ” decided Murtagh ; “ because how 
do you know Macbeth wasn’t a Scot and Piet ? and 
every one knows they were with the ancient Britons.” 

“ I don’t think we ’d better play games like that,” 
replied Rosie, who had no answer ready, “because, you 
see, we have to do all the cooking and cleaning our- 
selves. We ’d better be poor people living in a hut.” 

Rosie’s plan was decided to be as good as another, 
and then scrubbing, sweeping, and dusting went on 
vigorously, till Bobbo came back from the mill bringing 
with him not only a whole box of matches but also a can 
of buttermilk, which the good-natured miller’s wife had 
given him. 

How the children enjoyed that cleaning ! How 
they rubbed, and scrubbed, and splashed the water 
about ! They forgot all about being hungry in the 
interest of sweeping, and dusting, and arranging. Any 
one might have supposed that they were the most orderly 
little mortals in existence. 

Even Ellie had her share. With the skirt of her frock 
pinned back, and her little sleeves rolled up, she knelt 
upon the floor arranging laurel leaves, with the shiny 
sides uppermost, as though her very life depended on 
the completeness of the operation. 

At last all began to look a little more clean and tidy, 
as Rose and Winnie observed with pride. The fire was 
lighted, the potatoes were boiling, the fish ready to cook, 
and now arose the great question : “ How were the fish 
to be cooked ? ” The children had often seen Donnie 
cooking fish, but then it was always in a frying-pan, and 
they had no frying-pan. • Murtagh was equal to the 
occasion. He thought he had heard* somewhere that 
down at Killarney trout used to be grilled over a wood 
fire on a kind of gridiron of arbutus twigs ; and there 
was a splendid arbutus tree on the island. 

“All right,” said Winnie; “I daresay it’s as good a 
plan as another ; an^'how, let ’s try.” 


62 


CASTLE BLAIB. 


The boys went out to cut the twigs, and she prepared 
a little wall of stones on either side of the fire, so that 
the sticks might be laid across from one to the other, 
and support the fish nicely over the red mass of glowing 
wood, without letting them get burned. Rosie and 
Theresa laid out upon the table the cracked cups and 
plates, the brown cake Donnie had given them, and 
Bobbo’s can of buttermilk. Everything was ready except 
the trout. The children began to realize how hungry 
they were ; and the boys coming quickly back with their 
bundles of rods, every one gathered round the fire, 
absorbed in the interest of watching the experiment of 
fish grilling. 

Winnie’s plan for making the gridiron answered per- 
fectly, and in a minute or two six trout lay sputtering 
and fizzing side by side upon it. 

“ My golly goskins ! doesn’t it make one hungry to 
look at them ? ” cried Bobbo in delight. 

Rosie looked almost solemn; she appealed anxiously 
to Winnie 'to know how long she thought they ought to 
take cooking. 

“ I don’t know exactly,” said Winnie. “ We must just 
guess ! ” And so well did they guess that when, after 
what seemed a very long time, the six trout were all 
served up together in the flat wooden bowl, decorated 
by Murtagh with sprays of arbutus leaves and berries, 
the children decided that they had never in all their 
lives sat down to such a jolly dinner. 

They were as hungry as hungry could be, and tired 
enough to be glad to sit down. The fish and brown 
cake were delicious ; the hut was most cosy with its 
carpet of green leaves and its blazing fire, and even 
Theresa could not help being gay and light-hearted. 

By the time dinner was ovfer, however, the short 
October afternoon was beginning to grow dark, remind- 
ing them that, even taking the shortest way home by the' 
road, they had some little distance to go, and nothing 
had yet been quite settled about Theresa. 

“ Now, listen, and I ’ll tell you what my plan is ’ 


CASTLE BLAIB. 


63 


said Murtagh, in answer to a question from Rosie. 
“This hut is a very nice place to live, and I vote The- 
resa stays here. There are three fish left, and a bit of 
cake. That ’ll do for her supper and breakfast. We 
can collect a lot of wood now before we go ; then she 
can fasten the door inside and keep herself warm'with 
having a jolly big fire all night; not a soul will ever 
know she ’s here, and to-morrow — ” 

“ Well, but, Murtagh,” interrupted Rosie, “ we 
can’t — ! ” 

“ Stop a minute, till you hear the end,” said Mur- 
tagh, “ I thought all about it on the way up here. To- 
morrow we must just make up our minds to ask old 
Plunkett something. It ’s not very nice,” he added, 
deprecatingly, turning to Winnie, “ but then, you know, 
it ’s not the same as if it was for ourselves. We ’ll just 
tell him all about it ; how the rent was lost, and all ; 
and then, though he is such a — what he is, — of course 
he ’ll let them off paying after an accident like that. 
And then, Theresa, we ’ll all go home with you when 
you go, and your mother ’ll be so awfully glad to see 
you, after thinking you ’re lost, that she won’t think a 
word about anything except kissing and that sort of 
thing ; and of course when the rent ’s all right your 
step-father won’t touch you.” 

“ What a splendid plan ! ” cried Winnie and Bobbo 
^ together, as Murtagh, proud of the completeness of his 
project, looked round for admiration. There was a 
reality and importance in the idea of keeping her all 
night that pleased them greatly. 

The notion was by no means so agreeable to Theresa ; 
but at the thought of going home the terror of her 
step-father came over her again. She dared not face 
him without the rent, the remembrance of her last beat- 
ing was too fresh in her mind. 

“ I think I ’d better drown myself and have done 
with it ! ” she exclaimed, relapsing into her former state 
of despair. 

“ wLat in the world should you drown yourself for ? ” 


64 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


asked Winnie. “You have nothing to do except to stay 
here quite quietly and comfortably till to-morrow morn- 
ing : then we ’ll come up with the rent, and we ’ll all go 
home to your house together: the night goes quite 
quickly, you know, when you ’re asleep.” 

Winnie’s 'words made the affair seem certainly much 
simpler. It was an easy way of getting the rent, and 
Theresa felt ashamed of her ingratitude. 

“I’m sure I ask yer pardon, every one of ye. It’s 
much too good ye are to me,” she replied warmly. 
Then with a sudden doubt: “Ye’re sure ye’ll bring it 
up in the morning ? ” 

“Oh, yes!” cried Bobbo and Winnie together, “of 
course we ’ll come up the very first thing after ,we ’ve 
got it,” said Murtagh. “You know he won’t actually 
give us two sovereigns, but he ’ll say you needn’t pay 
your rent; that’s just the same thing, you understand.” 

“ But,” suggested Rosie, who understood better what 
Theresa meant, “supposing he won’t let them off 
paying.” 

“Oh, of course he’ll let them off!” returned the 
others confidently. 

“Why,” said Winnie, “just think, what’s two sov- 
ereigns in all the hundreds and hundreds of pounds of 
rent he has paid to him ! ” 

“Why,” added Murtagh, “he has more hundreds of 
pounds every year, I expect, than we have halfpennies, 
all five of us put together.” 

“ So it would be just the same,” continued Winnie, 
“as if some one asked us to give two halfpennies 
between us, and we would have to be pretty mean if we 
wouldn’t do that.” 

“ Yes,” said Rosie, who never could understand any- 
thing the least bit like a sum, “ then I think it ’ll be all 
right. He couldn’t possibly refuse that.” 

“ I should rather think not ! ” answered Bobbo, while 
Winnie, jumping up, said they must set to work at once 
to collect firewood. 

“ There ’s only one thing more,” said Murtagh, whose 


CASTLE BLAIB. 


65 


first satisfaction with his own plan was a little bit 
damped by seeing that Theresa was not so enchanted as 
he had expected. “ About your mother, Theresa, is 
that what you ’re thinking about? Are you afraid she ’ll 
be frightened at your not going home ? ” 

“ Oh, Murtagh, we can’t help that ! ” said Winnie. 
“ We must keep it all secret, or half the fun will be 
gone ! ” 

Theresa replied dolefully that “ She didn’t know 
what her mother would do at all at all. She thought 
maybe it would kill her, she was that weak.” 

“I’m sure it wont’ kill her,” said Bobbo, “and just 
think how jolly it’ll be to see her face when we take 
you back to-morrow.” 

“ If once we let out the secret of the hut we ’ll never 
have any peace here again,” urged Winnie. 

“ Now do just listen to me,” said Murtagh, suddenly 
illuminated by another brilliant idea. Nobody ’s going 
to let out the secret of the hut. This is what I vote. 
Of course we can’t tell your mother all about you, 
Theresa, because it would never .do to let anybody 
know where you are ; but we might write something on 
a piece of paper, just to let her know you’re safe, and 
poke it under the cottage door the way the Fenians do 
theif warnings about shooting people. We can do it 
on the way home, when it ’s too dark for any one to see 
us.” 

“ Oh, Murtagh ! ” cried Bobbo in delight. “ How 
ever do things get into your head ? ” 

Murtagh tried not to lo.ok too proud of himself, but 
he began to feel really elated at his own genius for 
arranging details. 

“ Who ’s got a pencil ? ” he continued, producing a 
bit of dirty paper from his pocket. 

None of them possessed such a thing ; but a stick 
blackened in the fire and then dipped in buttermilk 
answered fairly well for a pen. It was found dreadfully 
difficult to write with ; so Rose, who was the best scribe 
of the party, was directed to write only these words:. 

5 


65 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


“Theicsa is safe,” — that being the very shortest mes- 
sage they could think of. Then Murtagh put the letter 
in his pocket, and they all set to work to collect fire- 
wood. 

Poor Theresa was secretly terrified at the prospect 
of spending the night alone upon that out-of-the-way 
little island, but she dared not speak. The only alterna- 
tive was to go home, and she was' still more terrified 
when she thought of what awaited her there. There 
was nothing for it but to bear her miserable fortune as 
best she could. While the children made their prepara- 
tions for departure she sat cowering by the fire, and to 
tell the truth, her unhappy face tried their patience not 
a little. They had no conception’ of the nervous terrors 
she was undergoing, and they thought that she really 
might look a little happier when they had arranged such 
a beautiful plan for setting everything right. 

Before they went, however, Murtagh asked her good- 
naturedly what was the matter, so she had at least the 
satisfaction of expressing her fears. The children tried 
to console and reassure her, but they could not succeed ; 
and at last, feeling that they were only wasting words, 
they bade her “Good night,” and picked their way 
across the river. 

Left alone, Theresa dared not move even to bolt the 
door which the children had closed behind them* but 
turning the skirt of her dress over her head, she sank 
down in the corner of the hut with her face to the wall, 
and quivering with fear lay still and listened. 

Nothing came. Not a sound was to be heard but the 
murmuring of the water as it rippled swiftly over the 
stones, and before long the perfect stillness of her po- 
sition produced its own effect ; she fell into a short 
troubled sleep. But her dreams were of terrible things, 
and she awoke suddenly a few hours later convinced 
that she had heard something, she was too agitated to 
attempt to define what. She gave one scream, and then 
sitting up she held her breath and listened. A gentle 
wind had. arisen, the branches of the trees were swaying 


CA^^TLE BLAlTt. 


67 


backwards and foi wards, and she imagined she heard 
a sound as of ghostly footsteps. The sound continued, 
but nothing approached : and at last, a desperate kind 
of curiosity overmastenng every other emotion, Theresa 
determined to go to the window-opening and peep out. 

Trembling greatly she crept across the hut. The 
moon was up now, and the first object that met her eyes 
was a great white shimmering thing that seemed to be 
coming towards her, waving its arms as it approached. 
She stood still a moment transfixed with fright; then 
a gust of wind rushed through the trees; the whole 
island seemed to shiver ; two long white arms were 
raised as if to seize her, and she could bear it no longer. 
Shrieking at the top of her voice she fled blindly, she 
scarcely knew where, out of the hut down to the river’s 
edge. The sight of the shining water recalled her just 
sufficiently to her senses to prevent her from attempting 
to cross the river; but still screaming she turned and 
rushed — right into the arms of the ghost itself, where 
she fell exhausted and terrified among the straggling 
branches of a tall laurel. 

For a moment she lay shuddering with closed eyes ; 
but presently, venturing to look around her, she found 
that the ghost had vanished; that the moon was shining 
peaceably on the white backs of the laurel leaves as 
they fluttered on the swaying branches; and after the 
first moment of astonishment, she began to understand 
that all her fright had been caused by nothing more nor 
less 'than a big bush. 

Poor little Theresa ! She had sense enough left to 
feel very small and very much ashamed of herself, so 
picking herself up from the ground she went quietly into 
the hut. This time she barricaded the window and 
bolted the door, then blowing the fire into a blaze she 
ate some supper, and lying down once more fell soon 
into a peaceable slumber. 

The children meanwhile, on leaving her, had trotted 
in the deepening gloom along the road till they came to 
the Dalys’ cottage, a mere mud cabin standing back in 


68 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


a little garden from the roadside. But alas for Mur- 
tagh’s plan of poking his bit of paper under the door ! 
The door was wide open, and c^posite to it, near the 
fire, a man stood smoking. 

“What’s to be done now?” whispered Rose. 
“ We ’d better go away ; he ’ll see us.” 

“Hold your tongue,” returned Murtagh. “He can’t 
see us because we ’re out in the dark, but he ’ll hear us 
if you don’t mind.” 

Rose was silenced, and Murtagh stood a minute 
thinking what was best to do. 

“ We ’ll hide in the ditch,” whispered Winnie. You 
wrap it round a stone, then shy it straight in and hide ; 
don’t run away.” 

Murtagh nodded in sign of approval ; and while he 
looked for a stone the four others concealed themselves 
in the ditch. Standing a little on one side of the door 
he flung in his note. The children saw the little white 
thing fall at the man’s feet. He started, looked round, 
then stooped and picked it up. As he opened it they 
heard him say something in a low thick voice. Then 
there was a shrill cry of “ Peter, what is it ? ” He 
seemed to answer ; took a great stick from the chimney 
corner, came to the door, and looked out. They heard 
the woman’s voice say, “ Oh, Peter, catch the villains ! ” 
and their hearts began to beat a little faster as they 

%. ked at his great stick. 

To their intense relief, however, after a moment of 
apparent irresolution, he exclaimed with a drunken 
laugh, “ May old Nick fly away with ’em. I ’m well rid 
of her.” "^hen the door was shut to with a bang, and 
they all ciept out of their hiding-places and scampered 
away home as fast as their legs would carry them, not 
feeling quite §ure he wasn’t after them till they were 
safe inside the house. 

They rushed helter-skelter along the passages like a 
whirlwind, setting the doors banging behind them, till 
at the drawing-room door they were brought to a full 
stop by Adrienne, who hearing the noise came out to 
meet them. 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


69 


“ How late you are ! ” she said. “ Are you not very 
cold ? Come in here and warm yourselves while they 
are getting your tea ready.” 

The drawing-room behind was bright with lamp and 
firelight. In her white dress, her face a little flushed 
with bending over the fire, she seemed to the children 
almost like a being descended from some other world. 
Murtagh looked doubtfully at his muddy boots before 
he followed her into the drawing-room. The room 
smelt of flowers, a low chair was drawn up to the fire, 
and on a small table beside it was a bit of needlework 
and a china bowl full of ivy and late roses. The 
“ mustiness ” of the old drawing-room had somehow 
disappeared, as if by enchantment. 

Adrienne knelt down upon the hearth-rug, and taking 
Elbe’s two little hands in hers she rubbed them up and 
down to bring back the heat. 

“ Where have you been ? ” she asked. “ It ’s very 
late ; you must be tired and hungry.” 

“ Don’t ! ” burst out Murtagh^, who was apparently 
fascinated by the contrast between Elbe’s dirty little 
fingers and the hands in which they lay. “ They are so 
beastly fishy ; you ’d better let them alone. Elbe can 
warm them herself at the fire.” 

“ Elbe is so tired,” said Elbe plaintively, leaning her 
little body against Adrienne. Adrienne sat down on the 
floor and took the child into her lap. 

“ Poor little thing ! ” she said, looking up at the others. 
“ Have you been fishing I think you have been rather 
too far for her.” 

“ I should rather think we have been fishing,” re- 
plied Bobbo, enthusiastically. “ And we found some- 
'thing else besides fish ; didn’t we. Myrrh?” 

An admonitory kick from Winnie, accompanied by a 
sotfo voce “ Hold your tongue, little donkey,” warned 
him to be quiet, and Rosie hastily covered his abrupt 
silence byremarking: “We caught nine trout, and four 
of them were the very biggest I have ever seen.” 

Adrienne was all attention and interest, and without 


70 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


mentioning Theresa the children had plenty to tell. It 
was new to them to have a kind and intelligent listener 
waiting at home when they came in full of their adven- 
tures, and they thoroughly appreciated the advantage. 
Lolling in eaSy chairs by the fire, they were so warm and 
comfortable that they paid no attention to Peggy’s an- 
nouncement that tea was ready, and presently Mr. 
Blair’s step was heard coming along the hall. Then 
Adrienne looked up quickly, and said with a little hesi- 
tation*: 

“ Hadn’t you better go and take your tea now .? I 
thijik that is Uncle Blair, and you are so — — You are 
not quite dressed for the drawing-room.” 

The children started out of their chairs. Murtagh 
contented himself with one of his queer, significant 
glances, embracing the whole group that stood upon the 
hearth-rug. Rosie blushed, and explained that, “ When 
we were with mamma we always dressed for the even- 
ing.” 

Adrienne, without answering, led sleepy little Elbe to 
the door. She was simply anxious to get them out of the 
room, judging rightly that their uncle would not be at all 
enchanted to find such a dirty little tribe in possession 
of all the easy-chairs. The children were quick to 
understand, and they did not require to be told twice. 
They vanished promptly through one door as their 
uncle entered by the other. 

The school-room was cold, and as untidy as usual. 
The door was standing open, and the flame of the candle 
which lighted the tea-table flickered in the draught. As 
they surveyed it, and heard in the distance the drawing- 
room door shut behind them, the children had a vague 
shut-out sort of feeling, 

“ What a set of dirty vagabonds we do look,” said 
Murtagh, shivering. “ Shut the door, Bobbo ; the 
candle ‘s running down one s'de on to the table-cloth.” 


CASTLE BLATB. 


71 


CHAPTER VII. 

N ext morning breakfast was half-finished when 
Brown entered the dining-room, and said that Mr. 
Plunkett was in the study, and wished to know if he 
could see Mr. Blair. 

“ Ask him to come in here, Brown,” said Mr. Blair. 
‘^Take a cup of tea, and tell me your business now, 
Plunkett,” he said, as Mr. Plunkett was ushered in. 
“ I have promised Mr. Dalrymple to be with him at ten 
to look at his moss agates, so I have not a moment to 
give you after breakfast.” 

“ And I shall be gone to the outlying farms by the 
time you come back,” returned Mr. Plunkett, without 
seating himself. “ Well, sir, a most unpleasant event 
has occurred, and as I think you will be called upon to 
institute some inquiry, I consider it my duty to inform 
you of it without delay. Peter Daly has just been with 
me.” 

The children were suddenly startled into attention, 
and made violent attempts to look as though they didn’t 
care. 

“ And it appears, from his confused account, that 
yesterday morning his step-daughter, Theresa Curran, 
aged thirteen, was sent to my house with the amount 
due for half a year’s rent, two sovereigns, which she 
was to pay to me. The money was not paid yesterday, 
and the girl, it seems, has disappeared. Her mother 
became anxious yesterday afternoon, and despatched a 
little boy to make inquiries in the village. The girl had 
not been seen, and what gives the affair a serious aspect 
is this.” 

Here Mr. Plunkett, tucking his umbrella under his 


72 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


arm, drew out a pocket-book, and began to search among 
the papers contained in it. Then selecting one he laid 
it before Mr. Blair, and continued : 

“ Yesterday evening, after dark, this paper was 
m3^steriously thrown into the cottage, and though, as 
you perceive, it is meant to be of a reassuring character, 
it points in my opinion to the conclusion that the girl 
has been forcibly abducted for the sake of the money in 
her possession.” 

Murtagh held his breath, and sat most unnaturally still 
for fear of betraying himself as he recognized his piece 
of paper. What in the world, he wondered, was the 
meaning of a “ reassuring character ? ” Rosie blushed 
so violently that it was lucky for them no one was paying 
attention to their movements. • 

“You will observe,” Mr. Plunkett went on, “that the 
writer is evidently a person of very little education ; out 
of those three words two are wrongly spelt.” Winnie’s 
eyes sparkled with suppressed laughter, and she glanced 
at Rose as Mr. Plunkett made this remark. 

“And,” said Adrienne, who had risen, and was looking; 
over her uncle’s shoulder, “ it has not even been written 
with a pen and ink.” 

The children began to lose all command of their 
countenances. They longed to be out of the room, but 
a sort of fascination kept them silent in their chairs. It 
did not occur to one of them that the simplest thing to 
do was to tell their story, and ask for the rent then and 
there. 

“ Everything, in fact,” replied Mr. Plunkett, “ tends 
to demonstrate that the offence has been perpetrated by 
members of the lowest class of society, and this invests 
the affair with a certain gravity. But I permit myself to 
hope that it may yet prove less serious than at first sight 
it appears.” 

“Go down to the cottage, Plunkett, if you have time 
before starting for the farms, and I should not be at all 
surprised if you find her sitting quietly by the fire,” said 
Mr. Blair. “ My countrymen have a wonderful aptitude 
for all that savors of romance.” 


CASTLE BLAIB. 


73 


“ I have been down, sir,” said Mr. Plunkett with 
something that was almost a smile, “ and I fear the fact 
is incontestable that the girl and the rent have disap- 
peared. The romance is not wanting. Mrs. Daly has 
got it into her head that a man, Patrick Foy by name, 
who has a grudge against her for marrying Daly, has 
killed the girl, and sent this letter in order to hinder any 
search being made till he has had time to leave the 
country.” 

Adrienne’s eyes opened wide with mixed astonishment 
and incredulity. 

“ It is quite possible, Miss Blair,” said Mr. Plunkett. 
“ The folly and passion of these people is beyond all 
reasonable comprehension. I do not say that in this 
case I consider such a solution to be probable. But you 
perceive,” he continued, turning to Mr. Blair, “that 
since the woman expresses such an opinion it compli- 
cates the affair, and renders it doubly advisable to put 
the matter at once into the hands of the police.” 

A sort of gasp from Bobbo made Mr. Plunkett turn 
his head ; but Mr. Blair, suddenly remembering the moss 
agates, pushed out his chair at the moment, and recalled 
Mr. Plunkett’s attention by saying with a smile : 

“ Well, well, Plunkett, you know I am one with you in 
your crusade against these barbarians ; do whatever is 
necessary. And if it turns out to be serious,” he added 
more gravely, “ don’t let any question of expense weigh 
\ ith you. The poor girl must be found.” 

“ I shall institute proceedings at once,” replied Mr. 
I’lunkett, as he walked with Mr. Blair to the door; “and 
if there is evidence to confirm the mother’s notion we 
.vill, of course, have Pat Foy taken up.” 

The two gentlemen walked away down the passage, 
and the children were at last able to escape. 

“ I say,” exclaimed Bobbo, “ here ’s a pretty go ! ” 

“Hadn’t we better say where she is at once?” said 
Rose anxiously; “somehow policemen — ” 

“You’d better look out. Rose,” said Murtagh mock- 
ingly ; “ you ’ll be taken up before you know where )’ou 


74 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


are and clapped into prison. You ’re the eldest of us, 
you know.” * 

But though Murtagh could not resist the temptation 
to laugh at Rose, he was serious enough when he turned 
to Winnie and asked: 

“ What ’s to be done now ? How shall we ask him for 
the rent ? ” 

Winnie thought deeply for a minute or two ; then she 
burst out ecstatically with : “ Oh, Murtagh, wouldn’t it 
be fun to keep her hidden, and have all the policemen 
and people searching, and Mr. Plunkett fidgeting and 
worrying, and taking ever so much trouble! It would 
pay him out so jolly, and pay out that policeman too for 
telling about me and Bobbo.” 

“No, no, Murtagh!” cried Rosie, “that would never 
do. We ’ll be getting into an awful scrape.” 

“I don’t think Theresa would think it much fun, 
Win,” said Murtagh, shaking his head. “No; I think 
we’d better get the rent. The thing is — I say!” he 
exclaimed, suddenly breaking off in the middle of his 
sentence, “ isn’t that old Plunkett himself on Black 
Shandy?” 

He pointed as he spoke to the avenue, where some 
one on a black horse was trotting away from the house. 

“ It is so,” replied Bobbo. “ He ’s off to the farms 
now, and the Lord knows when he ’ll be back ! ” 

It was useless to run after him, he was already much 
too far off ; what was to be done ? The children looked 
blankly at one another. Then Rose exclaimed vehe- 
mently : “ Why didn’t you ask him before he went, 
Murtagh ? It was all your plan, and now what shall we 
do ? ” 

“Ask him this evening instead,” replied Winnie 
coolly, while Murtagh looked troubled. “ Never mind, 
Myrrh, it ’ll all come right in the end, because things 
always do. As we can’t ask him now the first thing we 
had better do is just to get something from Donnie that 
will do for Theresa’s dinner, and then go up and tell 
her.” 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


75 


“ Poor Theresa ! ” said Murtagh, “ she ’ll be awfully ’ 
disappointed.” 

Still Winnie was right. It was evidently the first thing 
to do ; and having provided themselves with various 
scraps from the larder they started for the island. They 
went by the road ; they had no heart to go up the river ; 
and as they walked along they earnestly discussed the 
possibilities and probabilities of the police finding out 
all about it before to-morrow ; for it had become evident 
that they must keep Theresa another night. It ’ was 
more than ever impossible now for her to go home with- 
out the rent, and there was no knowing at what time Mr 
Plunkett would return from the farms. 

They decided that they would wait about in the 
avenue to waylay him as he came back, and thus lose 
no time in making their request ; but he was not likely 
to return till eight or nine o’clock, and it would be too 
late then to go up to Theresa. If it had not been for 
the police they would have thought very little of keeping 
her a night longer, but their notions about what police- 
men might know and do were very vague, and they had 
in their secret hearts hazy visions of prison and a court 
of justice, which were too unpleasant to be talked about 
even to one another. 

“ I wish we ’d never had anything to do with her,” 
sighed Rose. 

•'No,” said Murtagh; “because you know, if she 
hadn’t met us perhaps she ’d have gone home and been 
killed ; so, of course, it ’s better this way.” 

“Yes, but supposing we don’t get the rent!” sug- 
gested Rose, dolefully. 

“ Oh, we must get that. Nobody could refuse it after 
thinking she ’s dead and everything. If they don’t find 
out before to-morrow it will be all right.” 

“ I wish to goodness to-morrew was come then ! ” 
ejaculated Bobbo, who remembered how very unpleasant 
the policeman’s hand had felt on his shoulder that 
evening on the garden-gate. 

In this gloomy frame of mind they reached the island. 


76 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


Theresa had recovered from her terrors of the night 
before, and now feared only her step-father. 

When she heard the children’s account of all that had 
happened she very nearly relapsed into the state of 
despair in which they had found her the day before. 
Rosie had secretly hoped that she would insist upon 
going home, but no such thought entered her mind. 
She only implored Murtagh to be sure and get the rent 
soon. “ For, you know, sir, he ’ll be madder than ever 
now after having all this botheration, and he wouldn’t 
mind what he did.” 

It was impossible to comfort her, and notwithstanding 
Winnie’s and Murtagh’s confident assurances that every- 
thing would be settled on the morrow, the little party 
that dined on the island that day was very dreary and 
dismal. 

The children stayed as long as they could to keep 
poor Theresa company, but towards four o’clock they 
thought it best to go and begin their watch for Mr. 
Plunkett ; it was just possible that he might come home 
early. 

“You mustn’t expect us early to-morrow, Theresa,” 
said Winnie; “on Sunday morning we can’t get out 
before breakfast, because Donnie always comes and 
pomatums all our heads. Then we ’re dressed for 
church; then there’s church; then there’s dinner — oh 
dear ! I wish Sunday didn’t come so often ; we shan’t 
be able to get up till the afternoon.” 

“ Mornin’ or evenin’ it don’t matter; I don’t believe 
yez ’ll ever be able to get the rent,” replied Theresa, 
disconsolately; and in that desponding condition they 
were obliged to leave her. 

They wandered about down in the park, listening 
anxiously for the sound of Black Shandy’s hoofs. The 
wind was very cold, and towards six o’clock the evening 
closed in dark and wet. Their teeth chattered and theii 
clothes were soon soaked with rain. Still it was no use 
going home till they had seen Mr. Plunkett. Theresa 
must not be disappointed a second time ; so they marched 


CASTLE BLAIE. 


77 


patiently backwards and forwards to keep themselves as 
warm as might be, and held on bravely to their purpose. 

At last there was a sound of footsteps. The children 
ran eagerly forward in the hope that it might be Mr. 
Plunkett for some reason returning on foot, but it 
turned out to be a laborer going home from his work. 

“ Whatever are ye doing out here in the rain ? ” he 
exclaimed in surprise. 

“ We Te waiting for Mr. Plunkett,” replied Murtagh ; 
“ we want to speak to him.” 

“ Ye won’t speak to him to-night then,” returned the 
man. “ He came home in the doctor’s trap hours ago. 
Haven’t ye heard the news ? ” 

“ What news ? ” exclaimed Murtagh. 

“The news o’ the shooting. He was shot at from 
out o’ the little wood across at the back o’ Dolan’s 
fields, an’ he never was touched at all ; only .Black 
Shandy killed dead as a stone, — worse luck ! ” 

The “ worse luck ” may have been meant as a lam- 
entation for Black Shandy, but the tone in which it was 
uttered gave it an uncommonly different signification. 

“Shot at ! ” exclaimed the children excitedly. 

“What an awful lot of funny things are happening! ” 
said Murtagh. “Who shot at him 1 ” 

“ Them as thought we ’ve had enough o’ him and his 
ways, I s’pose,” replied the man. “ And that ’s not a 
few. Good-evening to yez ; ye ’d better be runnin’ in 
out o’ the rain.” 

“ Yes, but look here,” said Winnie. “ Did they want 
to shoot him dead ? ” 

“ What d’ye suppose I know about it ? Maybe it was 
only a bit o’ fun, just to see whether they could hit a 
man or no when they tried,” he replied, with a curious 
kind of laugh. 

“ Was he hurt } Were they caught ? ” inquired Bobbo. 

“ I don’t know the rights of it, but there ’s nothing 
serious. Old Nick ’ll always take care of his own. He 
fell down with the horse, and they took him up, an’ car- 
ried him into the farm ; then the doctor was sent tori 


7 <^ 


CASTLE EL Ain. 


and after a bit the two o’ them drove back here together. 
'I'hat ’s all I know about it. It ’s up at the house ye ’ll 
hear the whole story. But my old woman ’ll be looking 
out for me. Good-night to yez.” And this time he 
moved off quickly. 

“ Isn’t it lucky he wasn’t killed ! ” said Rosie 
“We ’d never have been able to get the rent then.” 

“ I wonder why they always shoot people,” said Win- 
nie. “ Last year when Mr. Dalrymple was in Italy they 
shot Mr. Williams, and row they ’ve tried to shoot old 
Plunkett.” 

“ Because they ’re agents,” replied Murtagh promptly. 
“And I don’t exactly know what agents are, but it’s 
something very bad. They ’re tyrants, and they oppress 
everybody. That man that was fishing with me and 
Pat O’Toole said Ireland would never be free till all the 
agents were killed.” 

“ Are you quite sure old Plunkett ’s an agent ? ” 
asked Bobbo with interest. 

“ Quite sure,” replied Murtagh, “ because they said 
so ; and besides, can’t we see he is ourselves } Isn’t he 
always oppressing people ? ” 

“ Why doesn’t the Queen banish them all out of 
Ireland ? said Winnie. “ That ’s what I ’d do if I 
were her.” 

“Oh, I say! exclaimed Bobbo, laughing, “wouldn’t 
it be a jolly lark if she banished old Plunkett } ” 

“Yes; but, Murtagh,” said Rosie, who generally 
kept one idea at a time steadily before her mind, “ how 
are we going to get the rent It ’s all very fine talking, 
but we never seem to get one bit nearer to it.” 

“ And we ’re not likely to get a bit nearer to it to- 
night,” said Murtagh with a sigh. “ We ’ve just got to 
wait till to-morrow morning. It ’s no use thinking about 
it. Here goes, Winnie ; I ’ll race you to the house.” 

But though he made the best of it he was greatly 
disheartened, and so too was Winnie. The plan had 
seemed so splendid at first, and now that it was to be 
carried out everything went wrong. They might pre- 


CASTLE BLAIU. 


79 


tend not to think of it ; in reality it occupied all their 
thoui^hts, and when the house was reached they went 
very silently olf to their own rooms. Bobbo and Rosie 
soon followed with Elbe, and while they groped their 
way into drier clothes the remarks exchanged across the 
little landing that separated the two rooms were of a 
decidedly doleful description. 

They had some idea of staying up in their rooms till 
the dinner-bell rang ; they did not feel in the mood to 
meet people and be asked questions about what they 
had been doing. But they had neither fires nor candles ; 
they were cold and uncomfortable ; and Murtagh soon 
remarked that he thought it was awful stuff staying up 
there in the cold. 

What ’s the good of it.? We ’ve often been in a row 
before, and, after all, people can’t guess just by looking 
at us that we know where Theresa is.” 

“AH right then,” said Rosie; “Let’s go down. 
But don’t let us seem to be cold or anything. Let ’s 
look quite jolly, as if nothing had happened.” And she 
ran down-stairs as she spoke, gaily talking and laughing. 

The other two children admired her plan but they did 
not second it, and it was a very cold, hungry, dispirited- 
looking set of little people, who in another miriute stood 
outside the school-room door. 

“ I hope to goodness the fire ’s not out,” said Mur- 
tagh, as he groped for the handle. 

He opened the door as he spoke, and disclosed to the 
children’s somewhat astonished eyes a school-room 
looking so different from their ordinary place of refuge 
that it was hardly to be recognized. Not only was a 
bright fire blazing in the grate, but the whole room was 
in perfect order. The crimson window-curtains were 
drawn ; the tea-table was decorated with a bouquet of 
fresh flowers ; the books had got into the bookcases ; 
the music into the music-stand ; the more comfortable 
and respectable of the arm-chairs were disposed within 
reach of the fire ; the brown moreen sofa had been 
dragged from its corner to occupy the place of honor at 


8o 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


one end of the hearth-rug; and Nessa herself, in her 
pretty evening dress, was sitting on the sofa reading. 

An undefined sensation of comfort crept over the 
children, but with it the elder ones had an unpleasant 
consciousness that somehow their wildness seemed sud- 
denly out of place. They didn’t feel quite as if they 
were .in their own school-room, and they hesitated an 
instant in the doorway, wondering half-uncomfortably 
what Nessa would say to them. They were very quickly 
at their ease, however, for she looked up brightly as 
they entered, and exclaimed : 

“ Oh, there you are ! I am so glad. I was expecting 
the dinner-bell to ring every minute, and I wanted to be 
here when you arrived. What do you think of it ? ” 
She looked round the room as she spoke. “ Peggy and 
I have been working the whole afternoon.” 

“ Awfully jolly ! ” said Murtagh, taking up a position 
on the hearth-rug, and surveying the room with a satis- 
fied expression. 

“ How pretty you have made it look ! ” said Rosie. 

“ What did you do to it ? ” 

“ What did we not do ? ” said Nessa. “ Peggy 
scrubbed and brushed and polished, and I dusted and 
arranged, and pushed the furniture about. First I was 
going to settle it a little by myself, and then Mrs. Done- 
gan came up and she sent Peggy to help rne.” 

“Well, I call this very jolly,” said Winnie, who had 
thrown herself into a chair, and was looking round with 
a beaming countenance. “ Doesn’t it seem to you just 
a little bit like when we were at home, Murtagh ? ” 

“ Yes,” said Murtagh, slowly. “ Only it isn’t papa, 
you know.” 

“That reminds me,” said Nessa, as she rang the bell 
for tea. “Who are Cousin Jane and Emma, or Emily 
and Frankie ? because I saw Uncle Blair for a minute 
at lunch time, and he said they were coming to stay 
here.” 

“Frankie coming!” exclaimed the children in de-~ 
light. 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


8l 


“ Oh, I am so ^lad ! ’’ continued Winnie. “ He is 
such a dear little fellow, only he is so delicate ; he is as 
old as Murtagh, really, but you wouldn’t think he is 
more than seven or eight years old, and he ’s not a bit 
strong. Often we have to carry him just like Ellie ; 
two of us put our hands together, you know.” 

“ He ’s just the very best little fellow that ever was 
born,” said Murtagh, warmly. “ Now he really is good, 
if you like. I don’t know how he manages; he never 
even wants to do anything — I mean things he oughtn’t 
to. I suppose he was just born so.” 

“ I wish he was coming alone,” said Bobbo. 

“ Why ? ” asked Nessa. 

“ Oh ! ” replied Murtagh, “ because Emma ’s a png, 
and Cousin Jane — well, Cousin Jane is a nuisance. 
Isn’t she now, Rosie ? ” 

“ Oh, yes,” replied Rosie. “You know she laughs at 
us ; and then about our clothes too, she always teases us 
because we ’re so funnily dressed, and that isn’t our 
fault. Donnie and Mrs. Plunkett settle all about that, 
and I ’m sure I don’t like being dressed as we are one 
bit ; I often feel ashamed to go into church with all the 
funny colors we have to wear ; and there ’s another 
thing, Emma hasn’t half such pretty things as we used 
to have when we were with mamma ! ” 

Rosie grew quite pink with indignation at the remem- 
brance of what she had suffered by reason of Donnie’s 
uneducated taste ; and Nessa agreed that it was aggra- 
vating to have to wear clothes that one didn’t like, and 
then be made fun of into the bargain. 

“But tell me something,” she continued; “are they 
all my cousins too ” 

“ Oh, yes,” cried Winnie, “ so they are ! Our 
cousins ; doesn’t that sound nice } ” 

“ What ’s funny,” said Murtagh, “ is about Cousin Jane. 
She ’s our cousin, and Emma and Frankie are our 
cousins too, because — Uncle William had a son. Oh, 
I never can remember that rigmarole; Rosie knows. 
Explain all about it, Rosie.” 

6 


82 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


“ You always begin wrong, Murtagh. That ’s why 
you can’t remember,” replied Rosie. “ Uncle William 
was Uncle Blair’s twin brother, and he ’s very, very old, 
you know. Then Uncle William died and had a son.” 

“ Had a son and died, you mean,” cried Murtagh, 
‘‘and the son married cousin Jane, and had another son 

called ‘ little Frankie,’ and then he died too, and ” 

“That means Frankie died,” interrupted Winnie; 
“ you ’re as bad as Rosie, Murtagh ! ” 

“ Well, but I couldn’t say it any other way,” replied 
Murtagh. • “ If I said, then he died too and had a son 
called Frankie, that would mean he had Frankie after he 
died. Perhaps he did ; I ’m sure I don’t know ; he ’s 
been dead a very long time, that ’s all I know about it, 
and Frankie’s the very jolliest little son any one could 
ever have ! When ’s he coming ? ” 

“ I don’t know,” said Nessa ; “ not for some time I 

think. Uncle Blair said ” The dinner-bell ringing 

loudly, interrupted her sentence. “ Uncle Blair said,” 
she continued, rising, “that they were making a little 
sort of driving tour through the hills, and that they 
would end here.” 

“ What a pity you have to go,” said Rosie ; “ it is so 
nice talking.” 

“ Would you like to come to the drawing-room after 
dinner ? ” said Nessa. “Uncle Blair does not come till 
nine o’clock.” 

“ Don’t you mind us coming ? ” asked Murtagh. 
“ Emma always said we ’re such a nuisance ! ” 

“ Oh, no ; indeed you are not to me ! ” replied Nessa, 
with an earnest warmth that made the children look up 
It her with pleased faces. 

“When we’ve finished tea,” said Rosie, as the door 
:losed behind Nessa, “ we might get some hot water and 
wash our hands and faces, don’t you think, Murtagh ? ” 

“ All right ! ” said Murtagh, nodding his head. 

And the result of their resolution was that when 
Nessa came out from dinner she found in the drawing- 
room four shiny little faces reflecting the lamplight, 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


83 


four tightly brushed heads, and four pairs of hands as 
beautifully clean as such weather-beaten little hands 
could be. 

The children had, in fact, made themselves so clean 
that they felt half-ashamed, but Nessa appreciated their 
little attention. 

“ How nice you all look ! ” she said kindly, and then 
she sat down amongst them, and they spent a very 
happy hour chatting round the fire. They discussed 
their cousins’ visit, and Mr. Plunkett’s escape, and the 
children had lots to tell about the place and the people. 
It was so nice talking, as Rosie said, and they were 
very happy to be thus possessed of Nessa’s undivided 
attention. So when bed-time came they ran gaily 
enough up their little staircase, and as they separated 
on the landing Murtagh exclaimed : 

“ You were quite right. Win, things always do come 
right in the end ; only to-morrow morning and all our 
troubles ’ll be over ! ” 


CHAPTER VHI. 

M urtagh woke next day with a glad feeling that 
something pleasant was to happen ; and then, re- 
membering what it was, he sprang out of bed with a 
shout of — “ Hurrah, Bobbo, to-morrow has come, and 
we ’ll be all right now ! ” Careering across the landing 
in his night-shirt, he woke Rosie and Winnie in order to 
remind them of the same fact, and they all rejoiced 
together, planning what they would say to Theresa’s 
mother, and anticipating with delight how “awfully” 
pleased she would look when she knew that Theresa 
wasn’t dead, and that the money was all right. 

“ I ’m very glad we met her, after all,” reflected Mur- 
tagh, as he returned to his own room to put on some 
garments more suitable to the breakfast table. “ Even 


84 


CASTLE BLAin. 


if the police had got hold ol us, it would have been some- 
thing to have saved her, and this way it ’s jolly.” 

Little Elbe understood enough of what was going on 
to know that the others were glad about something, so 
she looked happy and important when they met Nessa 
in the dining-room. Altogether they were as bright as 
they could be, and capered about, forgetting even to 
groan at the thought of being shut up in church for two 
whole hours. 

They expected to see Mr. Plunkett at ten o’clock. It 
was his custom to walk through the greenhouses at that 
hour on Sunday mornings. But alas for their joyful ex- 
pectations ! Ten o’clock struck, and eleven too, and no 
Mr. Plunkett made his appearance. 

Ballyboden fashion was to begin morning service at 
twelve o’clock, and at half-past eleven the carriage came 
to the door. Clearly, all hope of seeing Mr. Plunkett 
before church must be given up, and the mood in which 
the children started was anything but devotional. 

It must be confessed that they were not agreeable 
companions in church that day. Never had the service 
seemed so long to them, and doubly long did they make 
it seem to Nessa. In vain she buried her face in her 
hands and tried to forget them. The proximity of four 
sturdy children, confined against their will, is not easily 
to be forgotten. 

They meant to be quiet, but they yawned till the tears 
ran down their cheeks, and not only did they change 
their position every five minutes, but by a painful fatality 
they rarely succeeded in effecting the change without 
administering an unintentional but resounding kick to 
the woodwork of the old pew. At last came the final 
prayer, and Winnie went down on her knees with such 
alacrity that more than one respectable old lady turned 
her head, and seemed reproachfully to ask an explana- 
tion from Nessa. Oh ! why are old pews constructed on 
the principles of a sounding-board ? 

But it was over ; service and sermon had come to an 
end; and the small congregation poured out into the 
churchyard. 


' CASTLE BLAIB. 


‘ 35 


There the children learnt that Mr. Plunkett, more 
shaken than he had at first thought by the fall with 
Black Shandy, had been, this morning, unable to leave 
his bed. “ It was likely,” said the young doctor, who 
gave them the news, “ that he would be confined to the 
house for several days.” 

Nessa was astonished at the faces of dismay with 
which the children received the information. 

“Are you sure?” Rosie ventured to ask. “Are you 
sure he won’t be able to get out for several days ? ” 

“ Well, I really can’t tell you that. Miss Rose,” replied 
the doctor. “ But he ’s not very bad, — not very bad.” 

The doctor had a habit of laughing when he was 
nervous, and it made him very nervous to stand in the 
middle of the churchyard talking to Nessa, so he laughed 
a great deal as he answered Rosie. 

“ Giggling idiot ! ” muttered Murtagh, as he thrust his 
hands into his pockets and walked gloomily towards the 
carriage. 

“ Why can’t he say something in earnest ? ” he added, 
turning, as he thought, to Winnie. But it was not 
Winnie; it was Nessa who was close behind him. 

“Would you like to go round by the Red House, and 
inquire there how he is ? ” she suggested, feeling quite 
sorry for the children’s needless anxiety. 

Murtagh felt doubtful of the utility of that proceeding, 
but a nudge from Winnie, and an expressive glance from 
Rosie, made him accept the proposal. Winnie had con- 
ceived the bold design of seeing Mr. Plunkett in his own 
house, and of asking him without more delay; but, 
arrived at the Red House, she found that her hopes were 
vain. 

“ Mr. Plunkett was in his own room,” Mrs. Plunkett 
said, “ and did not know when he expected to leave it.” 

“ Mightn’t we go up and see him ? ” suggested Winnie 
undauntedly, but Mrs. Plunkett answered in horror: 
“ My dear Winnie, I wouldn’t let one of you inside his 
room for anything in the world. Why, he won’t even 
have one of his own children in except Marion, and .^he ’s 
more like a mouse than a child.” 


86 


C.\STLE BLAIR. 


So the notion had to be given up, and they drove 
away feeling more than ever puzzled as to what was to 
be done. Poor Theresa ! They scarcely dared to think 
of going up to her with the news that she must wait 
again, and this time wait till they did not know when. 

Their heads were so full of Theresa^s troubles that 
dinner was little short of torment- to them. They could 
not eat ; they were longing only for the meal to ^ be 
finished in order that they might get away and consult 
together. What, therefore, was their confusion, when 
towards the end of the second course Nessa innocently 
suggested that they should go together and pay a visit 
to the poor woman whose little girl had been lost. 

“Uncle Blair said it would be kind of us,” she said. 

The children at first were so taken aback they scarcely 
knew what to say. 

“We — we can’t,” replied Murtagh. “We have to 
go — I mean,” he said, recovering himself, “we have 
something else to do.” 

“ Look here, Murtagh, I don’t see a bit of use all of 
us going,” exclaimed Rosie, gaining a sort of desperate 
courage from Nessa’s presence ; “ and I ’m not, for one.” 

“ Do . you mean,” exclaimed Murtagh, astonished, 
“that you’re not coming up to — ” He stopped short 
just in time, growing scarlet at the thought of how nearly 
he had betrayed himself. 

Nessa looked at him in surprise, while Rosie answered 
stoutly: “No, I’m not.” 

“ Couldn’t your business wait till to-morrow? ” Nessa 
asked gently. 

“ No,” said Murtagh, with a sort of shutting of himself 
up that made further questions impossible. 

There was a minute’s silence; then Nessa turned to 
Rosie and asked whether she knew the way to Mrs. 
Daly’s cottage, and whether it would be too far for Ellie 
to walk. 

“I tell you what,” said Winnie presently, a vague 
idea that perhaps “something might turn up” at Mrs. 
Daly’s, prompting her suggestion, “ if you ’ll wait for us 


CASTLE BLAIE. 


87 


at the cottage we ’ll come there after, because anyhow 
that ’s the way we ’ll come home. Rosie can go with 
you if she likes,” she added, contemptuously. 

So it was arranged ; and dinner over, the children 
went away to their own rooms to prepare for their wallc. 

“ What is to be done, Murtagh ? ” asked Rosie, as 
they mounted 'the little staircase. “Goodness knows 
when that stupid Mr. Plunkett will get well again! I 
think much the best plan is to give up the whole thing, 
and tell Mrs. Daly now all about Theresa. We can’t 
possibly keep her there for ever and ever, and we shall 
be getting into an awful row, for the police always find 
things out.” 

“ What is the good of talking like that, Rosie ? ” inter- 
rupted Winnie impatiently. “Just as if we didn’t know 
as well as you that we’re getting into an awful row. 
You keep on telling us the same thing over and over 
again, as if that would help us out of it.” 

“Well, but I do tell you a way out of it,” replied 
Rose. 

“Yes, just like a sneaking woman’s way,” said Mur- 
tagh. “ Of course, you ’re never to stick to any one 
when it gets to be any trouble sticking to them.” 

“ Well, I ’m sure I don’t see much good sticking to 
people when you can’t do any good by it,” returned 
Rose, reddening; “and besides, you’re sure to let it all 
out before long, with the kind of things you say before 
other people.” 

“ Come now, Rosie, you ’re a great deal worse than 
Murtagh,” remarked Bobbo, and a pitched battle of 
tongues was imminent, when Winnie again interrupted : 

“ Do hold your tongues, and let ’s settle what ’s to be 
done.” 

But talking about it was very little use, and soon 
Nessa’s voice was heard at the bottom of the stairs 
calling out to know if Rosie and Elbe were ready. 

Great indeed, as the children expected, was poor 
Theresa’s trouble when she heard the news they brought ; 
it was impossible to console her. Nothing but the terror 


88 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


of going home, which grew in proportion with the efforts 
made to save her from that dreaded contingency, kept 
her upon the island. She suffered, really, infinitely more 
from the fears and loneliness of her captivity than she 
would have suffered even from her step-father’s anger. 
Her position on the island was indeed almost insupport- 
able ; but a sort of unreasoning shrinking from any new 
action, and, in spite of her desponding assurances to the 
contrary, a blind faith that somehow the children would 
make things all right in the end, kept her where she was, 
The first night had been the great difficulty, and that 
over she would now stay as long as the children could 
keep her. 

In answer to her tears the children could say nothing 
but promise more confidently than ever to make it all 
right somehow, if only she would wait patiently; and 
after they had done their little best to comfort her they 
went away promising to come up the very first thing 
before breakfast and bring with them news of her 
mother. 

The thought that they were going to see her mother 
reconciled her somewhat to their departure, but the 
hour they had spent with her had made them more than 
ever downspirited. They had exhausted all their courage 
in trying to comfort her, and the three little hearts were 
very heavy as they walked along the road that led to the 
cottage. It was Winnie as usual who brightened up a 
little at last. 

“ Never mind. Myrrh,” she said, as they reached the 
cottage-door. “We ’ll do it somehow, you know, if we 
hold out long enough.” And she seemed so sure that 
the boys felt surer too. 

They stopped on the threshold, hesitating to enter ; 
but Nessa’s voice within, speaking to Rose, emboldened 
them to lift the latch. The cottage was much like many 
another, but bare and neglected-looking. It felt cold, 
like an uninhabited place. A mud floor; at one end a 
cupboard; at the other a bed; a table, a couple of 
broken chairs; and in the smoke-stained fireplace a 


CASTLE BLAIE. 


89 


ne\vly-li( fire trying to burn ; that was what the children 
saw. Rose, at the fire, was stirring something in a 
saucepan; Nessa was sitting beside the bed with her 
back turned to the door. There seemed at first to be 
no one else in the cottage except little Elbe, who was 
leaning against Nessa’s knees; but as the children’s 
eyes became used to the obscurity they distinguished on 
the pillow the white, wasted face of a sick woman. 

Rosie looked up full of importance as they entered. 

“There you are ! ” she exclaimed in a half-whisper. 

“ Oh, it was such a good thing we came. Do you know 
she had nothing to eat, and there was no fire, and the 
door was open, and the pig had got in, and the chickens 
were pecking her oatmeal, and oh ! everything was so 
miserably uncomfortable ; but we ’ve settled her bed, 
and now we ’re making some gruel.” 

Nessa looked round at the sound of their entry 
Her face wore a saddened expression not usual to it. 

“These are my little cousins,” she said to Mrs. Daly; - 
“but we did not know how ill you were when we 
agreed to come all together.” 

“ They ’re very welcome, Ma’am,” replied the poor 
woman with a trace of cordial hospitality still left in her 
faint voice. “Ye’re kindly welcome, my dears; will 
yez please to sit down ? ” 

“ Thank you,” said Murtagh, and they sat down at 
once round the fire. At home as they generally were in 
the cottages, they scarcely knew what to do with them- 
selves in this one, and were glad to subside into silence. 
Nessa was hearing an account of the poor woman’s ill- 
ness, and from time to time the low indistinct sentences, 
interrupted by a constant cough, reached their ears. 

“ Ibu’t there anything we can do?” whispered Mur- 
tagh after a time. 

“ Oh, no,” replied Rose. “ We ’ve done everything. 
We made the room tidy, and we lit the fire and every- 
thing, and there was scarcely any wood, and she has 
hardly any covering on her bed, and there isn’t a single 
thing to eat except a little oatmeal and some scraps of 
hard bread.” 


90 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


“ What ’s in the saucepan ? ” asked Winnie. 

“Gruel,” replied Rosie. “Nessa settled it. It’s 
got to be stirred all the time, and then she ’s going to 
toast the scraps of bread when the fire gets a little 
brighter.” 

After that the children said very little ; but, sitting 
round the fire, they employed themselves with poking 
bits of wood into the blaze, and listened at first almost 
mechanically to what Mrs. Daly was saying. 

She was speaking of her husband now, telling how 
he was very good to her when he was sober, but that 
when he got a sup of drink, it was like mad it made 
him. “ He was as kind as a body could want yesterday 
morning,” she said, “ and went up to Mr. Plunkett’s to 
tell about the child being gone an’ all ; but now I sup- 
pose it ’s in with some of his bad companions he is, for 
he ’s never been back since. And then, you see. Ma’am, 
it ’s not like as if Theresa was his own child. Of 
course, he hasn’t the feelings like for her that a father 
might have, an’ she makes him mad with her flighty 
ways, till what with the drink an’ the anger he beats her 
sometimes till she can scarce stan’ up on her legs. 

“ She lost the goat up on the mountains two months 
ago come Wednesday, an’ deed he nearly murthered her 
entirely. She lay moanin’ there on the straw all night 
fit to make your heart bleed. But for all that he ’s a 
very kind man ; by nature I mean. Ma’am, you couldn’t 
find a kinder. It ’s all for her good he thinks he ’s 
doing it, and with the drink — ” 

\ All this was said in detached sentences, interrupted 
often by a cough, or a few words from Nessa. 

The children scarcely dared even to look at one 
another. They strained their ears to catch every word. 
Poor Theresa ! it seemed to them that she might almost 
as well live with a wild beast as with such a step-father. 
No wonder she was afraid to come home. 

But talking exhausted Mrs. Daly, and Nessa came 
soon to the fire to see if the gruel were ready. Then 
the bread had to be toasted, and a cup and plate and 


CASTLE BLAIE. 


91 


spoon had to be found and washed. But Nessa might 
have done nothing all her life except prepare gruel and 
toast, so quickly and deftly was it all made ready, and 
in a very few minutes Mrs. Daly, propped up in her bed, 
was partaking of the most comfortable meal she had 
tasted for days. 

Nessa would not let her speak any more, but in order 
that she might not feel hurried over her gruel began to 
talk herself, and amuse the children as much as Mrs. 
Daly by an account of her journey from Brittany to 
Ballyboden. 

She had such a perfectly simple way of talking, that, 
notwithstanding a certain Parisian bonnet which had 
been the object of Rosie’s admiration all church time, 
she seemed no more out of place sitting on a broken 
chair, making conversation in poor Mrs. Daly’s cabin, 
than she would have been in the most elegant of drawing 
rooms. Mrs. Daly was cheered by the pleasant chatter, 
and the children were quite sorry when the gruel was 
finished. But it was time to go home, and after asking 
if Mrs. Daly would like her to come again to-morrow, 
Nessa took her leave. 

As they passed out of the gate a man evidently the 
worse for drink rolled in, and staggering up the little 
path noisily entered the cottage. 

Nessa turned quite white. 

“ Are you afraid .? ” asked Bobbo. 

“I — I can’t bear people who drink,” she replied, 
recovering herself. 

“ Mustn’t it be dreadful to live with him ? ” said Rosie, 
as they walked on. 

No one answered her. The children were inclined to 
be very silent. This life of Theresa’s seemed to them 
something that could not be true. They had often been 
in and out of cottages; they had often seen men tipsy 
in the village ; but they had never realized before what 
it meant; and it came upon them to-day like a dreadful 
new thing they had just discovered. 

“How kind you are!” said Rosie gentl}^, coming 


92 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


close to Nessa, after they had walked about half a mile. 
“ Mustn’t Mrs. Daly be very glad we went ? ” 

“ Poor woman ! ” said Nessa, her eyes filling suddenly 
with tears. “She is very good. I wonder why God 
made us so happy.’/ 

“ Yes,” said Murtagh, who had been considering 
Rosie’s words. “ I think you ’re very kind ; I think you 
like helping people.” 

“ When I was little,” replied Nessa, turning to him 
with a smile, and falling into the children’s train of 
thought, “ I had a nurse called Aimee. She used to be 
very unliappy because I could not go to her church, and 
on Sunday afternoons she always took me to try and 
help sonie one. She used to tell me that that was my 
way to heaven. Wasn’t it a pretty thought? ” 

“ I think you must have been quite a different little 
sort of girl from us,” said Winnie. “We never thought 
about helping people, and those kind of things.” 


CHAPTER IX. 


ESSA next morning expressed her wish to go and 



s'ee Mrs. Daly again, and Rosie again volunteered 
to accompany her. 

“What’s the use of my going to the island?” she 
said in answer to the other children’s reproaches after- 
wards. I can’t do Theresa a bit of good, and I hate 
going there. I hate to think of it. It makes me mis- 
erable. Soon the police ’ll find out all about it ; I know 
they will, and we ’ll just be put in prison.” 

She went away as she spoke ; she didn’t want to talk 
about the affair. She would like to have forgotten it if 
she could, and she kept close to Nessa all day in order 
to prevent the others from having an opportunity of 
reminding her of it. 


CASTI.E BLAIE. 


93 


Her gloomy view depressed the other children not a 
little. They were already inclined to be low-spirited 
enough, and Rosie’s conviction that the police would 
interfere before long affected them in spite of them- 
selves, adding all the trouble of vague anxiety to their 
practical difficulties. 

Winnie said, “she didn’t believe ladies and gentle- 
men were ever put in prison, but she was not at all 
sure.” 

“ Isn’t it dreadful ? ” she said, waking up in the morn 
ing and thinking of it first thing. She meant by “ it ” all 
their troubles. 

“Yes,” said Murtagh ; “ and all day long too ; I can’t 
manage to forget it at all, but we ’ve just got to hold on, 
you know. We must be able to see old Plunkett soon 
now, and as for feeding her we can always manage that 
somehow. It ’s no use thinking about the police. If 
they ’re going to come why they ’ll have to come, that ’s 
all.” 

So they che*ered each other as best they could till 
Winnie, suddenly brightening up, exclaimed : “ Oh yes. 
Myrrh, and I ’d nearly forgotten. I thought of such a 
good plan last night in bed ; something for Theresa to do 
while she has to stay there. You know her mother ’s ill 
with compunction, or some name like that, and she 
ought to be kept very warm ; so I thought supposing 
Theresa made her some flannel jackets while she ’s up 
there. I know how to cut one out, and we can get the 
needles and thread and things out of Donnie’s basket.” 

“ Where are you going to get the flannel ? ” asked 
Murtagh laughing. “ Because they ’ll be rather queer 
jackets if they’re made of needles and thread.” 

“ I ’ve thought of that too,” replied Winnie triumph- 
antly. “ Come along ; ” and she jumped up from the 
staircase where she was sitting and danced into the boys’ 
room. 

“ We ’ll have two of your flannel shirts,” she ex- 
plained, as she went down on her knees before a great 
chest of drawers and began to pull at the handles ef tlie 
linen drawer. 


94 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


“ Well done, Winnie, you are a brick ; I never knew 
any one like you for thinking of things ; exclaimed Mur- 
tigh heartily, helping her to get the drawer open. 
“ Here, take" these two new scarlet ones ; they ’re the 
biggest ; and besides, all the others are in rags. Now 
for the needles ; you fetch them, and I ’ll run out with 
these for fear Donnie catches us. Won ’t she be in a 
jolly wax when she finds out they ’re gone ? ” 

“ Oh, she ’ll never miss them,” replied Winnie ; “ and 
besides, we ’re only taking them for a poor person, so of 
course it’s all right.” 

Right or wrong the shirts were speedily conveyed to 
the hut ; and, busy with her work, Theresa was happier 
when the children left her for the night than she had 
been since the day of their meeting. 

Thus another day went by. In vain the children 
hung round the Red House ; Mr. Plunkett did not ap- 
pear. The end of their adventures began to seem very 
indistinct. Supposing that Mr. Plunkett would not give 
them the rent when they did ask him ? What was to be 
done then ? It was a thought they refused to entertain, 
but in spite of themselves it crept from time to time into 
their minds, and it helped, with everything else, to make 
them unhappy. Sometimes they felt half-tempted to 
confide their trouble to Nessa, whose gentle ways were 
winning for her a warm place in their hearts, but there 
was a something of untamed shyness in their nature 
that made them shrink from exposing their secrets to 
any one. So they kept their perplexities to themselves, 
bearing them as best they could, and clinging still to the 
hope of getting the rent from Mr. Plunkett. 

But the end of their adventure came upon them more 
suddenly than they expected. 

On Wednesday morning they had for very idleness 
sauntered into the drawing-room where Nessa was en- 
gaged in rearranging the flowers, and, congregated round 
a little table by the window, they were watching her 
operations, when Donnie appeared in the doorway. 

“ I ’ve brought you up the drop of soup I promised 


CASTLE EL A in. 


95 


you, Miss Nessa, and a beautiful jelly it is,” she ex- 
claimed. “Ye might cut it with a knife. But the poor 
woman won’t care much about jelly or soup this day, 
for it ’s all out about the child. The police have gone 
up now to search the place.” 

The words fell like a bomb among the children. 

“What!” exclaimed Murtagh. Rosie flushed to the* 
roots of her hair, and stooped to pick up some fallen 
leaves. Winnie, with two bright red spots in her 
cheeks, started from her seat, while Donnie, without 
waiting for any questions, continued : 

“ I sent Peggy to the village this morning, and she ’s 
just come running back an’ told me all about it. The 
miller from the mill up there by Armaghbaeg came down 
this mornin’, and he ’d never heard a word about it 
before at all. But directly he heard what all the people 
are saying he went straight off and gave his evidence at 
the police-office; how, last Friday night — the very day 
she was missing — he heard a most awful shrieking and 
screaming coming from somewhere about the island up 
there in the river. He and his wife heard it together. 
Most awful he says it was, an’ made their blood run 
cold in the bed ; and he said to his wife, ‘ Kitty,’ says 
he, ‘ I ’d better be going to see what it is ; ’ and she laid 
her hand on him, an’ says she, ‘ ’Deed an’ ye will not. 
If there’s base people about you ’d better stop an’ take 
care o’ them that belong to you.’ So he stopped with 
her, and sure enough it must have been Theresa they 
heard. So one lot of the police are going to, take up 
Pat Foy, and there ’s more going up to search in the 
island and thereabouts. Anyways, that’s the story 
Peggy’s brought back with her.” 

“ But they haven’t found Theresa, then ! ” exclaimed 
Winnie, catching at the hope. 

“Found her!” echoed Mrs. Done-gan, 'shaking her 
head. “ Poor child, it ’s little they ’ll ever find of her 
again ! That ’s my belief.” 

“ Oh, we must go out ! ” exclaimed Winnie, unable 
any longer to hide her excitement. “Come along.” 


96 


CASTLE BLAITt, 


And before either Nessa or Donnie could ask them a 
question they were gone. 

Too much excited to speak, they set off running 
quickly across the lawn and down the avenue. Once 
pausing for breath, Winnie said: “We shall get there 
first if they didn’t start till Donnie told us!’^ But no 
one answered ; they wanted all their breath for running. 

They went down through the village, for the road 
was the shortest way. People were standing about in 
knots talking, but the children did not dare to ask if 
the police had started yet. As they passed the police- 
station they glanced hastily in, but naturally they saw 
nothing that could tell them whether they were or were 
not in time. 

Bobbo felt his legs tremble as he thought that perhaps 
before evening he would be locked up there. He did 
not exactly know why it was such a dreadful thing to 
have hidden Theresa, but only felt that if the police 
found her something awful would happen to them. 
Without being the least bit cowardly the prospect 
seemed to him very unpleasant. 

“ Oh, Murtagh ! ” he exclaimed, with tears starting 
to his eyes, but Murtagh answered without looking 
round : “ Come on ; let ’s keep together,” and quickened 
his own pace as he spoke. 

Bobbo swallowed his tears, and after that the four 
pairs of legs went steadily, patter, patter, along the 
road, and not another word was spoken. 

At each turning they expected to see the police in 
front of them. They strained their eyes to catch the 
first glimpse through the hedges of those dreaded dark 
coats, imagining from Donnie’s account that at least a 
regiment would be employed in the search. Every tree- 
trunk indistinctly seen made their hearts beat faster, 
but on they went — running when they could ; sometimes 
forced to walk for want of breath. 

Turn after turn was passed. No police yet. At last 
the island was in sight, and the ground lay clear 
between them and it. 


CASTLE BLAIE, 


97 


“ In time ! ” exclaimed Murtagh. 

But* they were not sure yet ; they might be altogether 
too late, and find the island empty. The thought lent 
wings to their feet. They dashed through the little 
wood that separated the river from the road, scrambled 
down the bank, crossed the river, and stood at last 
before the door of the hut. Theresa was there, sitting 
quietly working at the flannel jacket. 

“ Holy Virgin ! what has happened ? ” she exclaimed 
at the sight of their excited faces. “ Mr. Murtagh, 
Miss Winnie ? What is it ? Is me mother dead .? Ah, 
tell me; will one of you tell me.? ” 

But the relief of finding her safe was too great for 
words to be possible. Murtagh and Winnie stood 
trembling, while Rosie fairly burst into tears. 

“ Ah, what is it .? ” Will one of you tell me ? ” im- 
plored Theresa, wringing her hands. “ It ’s me mother; 
I know it is ! Oh, whatever did I ever come up here 
for? Let me go to her! ” And she started up to go. 

Murtagh shool^ his- head, and stretched out his hand 
to prevent her. 

“ Good God I ” cried Theresa, passionately. “ Can ’t 
one of ye speak ? Miss Rose, tell me ; what is it ? ” 
And Rose thus appealed to dried her tears, and found 
words to tell that the police would be up there in a few 
minutes. 

Winnie recovered herself, and added : “ So we mustn ’t 
stay here. Now then, Murtagh, wake up, and think 
what we are to do next” 

Murtagh took up the wooden bowl that stood half-full 
of water upon the table and drank ; then quite himself 
again, he said : 

“ Yes, the first thing to be done is to get away from 
here, down the river and through the woods into one of 
the shrubberies ; we shan’t meet any one that way.” 

On hearing that her mother was as well as usual, 
Theresa was so relieved that she did not seem to think 
of anything else; but gathering up her work, she 

7 


98 


CASTLE BLAIE. 


followed Murtagh and Winnie without question or 
objection. 

Though Murtagh had said they would meet no one 
this way they did not feel safe, and hurried along in 
silence. Murtagh and Winnie were turning over plans 
in their heads of what was next to be done. 

Bobbo, ashamed of his momentary weakness, began 
to recover his usual faith in Murtagh. But Rosie could 
find no comfort anywhere. Tears rolled over her 
cheeks as she followed the others, and she could think 
of nothing but the court-house as she had once seen it, 
with a grave-looking judge on the bench, policemen 
standing about, women crying, people staring and whis- 
pering. Only instead of the prisoner she had seen at 
the bar she imagined herself, and Murtagh, and Winnie, 
and Bobbo crowded in together, and her uncle and 
Nessa looking shocked, and Donnie talking about them. 
Then Mr. Plunkett would look so disagreeable, and 
Mrs. Plunkett too, and Cousin Jane would laugh at 
them, and perhaps they would be shut up in prison all 
their lives. One thing after another crowded into her 
mind, and the more she thought the more she cried. 
They must be found out some day soon. 

“After all,” said Bobbo, trying to feel brave in order 
to console her, “ perhaps it isn’t so bad. I expect 
Winnie and Murtagh will get us out of it somehow.” 

“They can’t prevent the policemen taking us,” re- 
turned Rose, dolefully. “ I wish to goodness we ’d 
never had anything to do with it.” 

“ Even if we did get put in prison I believe Murtagh. 
would get us out somehow,” said Bobbo, trying hard to 
feel really sure of it in his heart. 

“ Don’t talk such nonsense ! ” replied Rose crosslv, 

•' Murtagh ’s only a little boy.” But she was somewhat 
consoled nevertheless, and by degrees stopped crying. 

In the mean time they had left the river, and passing 
through a wood came now to the shrubbery where 
Winnie and Murtagh had arranged together that they 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


99 


might hide, and talk over plans, in a great Portuguese 
laurel. 

The laurel was a very big one, trained into the shape 
of a pyramid, and there was plenty of room for the 
children to sit in the centre among the interlacing 
branches, completely hidden from outside by the close 
clustering leaves. 

“ Now,” said Winnie, when they were all safely in, 
“ have you thought of anything, Murtagh ? ” 

“I don’t exactly know,” replied Murtagh slowly. 
“There’s the mountains, but it would be awfully diffi- 
cult to manage about her food. I don’t see quite how 
we ’re to do it. Do you 1 ” 

“ I won’t do another single thing,” interrupted Rose. 
“ I told you long ago you ought to have told Mrs. Daly 
on Sunday. Then we ’d never have got into all this 
dreadful scrape.” 

“ Well, but. Rose,” said Murtagh in a supernaturally 
gentle voice that he sometimes used when Rosie seemed 
to him quite unreasonable, “ 3^ou know we couldn’t tell 
on Sunday when we hadn’t got the rent. How could 
we ? It would have been worse to let her go home then 
than on Friday when we found her first.” 

“ I don’t know anything about the rent,” returned 
Rose. “ All I know is, it would have been much better 
if you ’d done what I said ; then we ’d never have been 
so miserable.” 

“ Don’t talk like a fool ! ” ejaculated Winnie impa- 
tiently, while Murtagh said : 

“ But don’t you see. Rose, that would have been as 
bad as murder, if we ’d let her be killed.” 

“ I don’t see anything,” answered Rose. “ I only 
think this is the most dreadful thing we ever had, and I 
wish to goodness anything would happen, 1 ’m so 
wretched. And I think it ’s very silly of you and 
Winnie ever doing it. You ’re only little children, and 
if people are going to be killed children can’t prevent 
it.” 

Here Rose began to cry again and Murtagh turned 


100 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


to Winnie with a despairing — “What shall we do? 
It ’s so awfully difficult to settle. I keep on thinking of 

plans, but Oh, dear ! when will that tiresome Mr. 

Plunkett get well ! Bobbo, did you go and ask about 
him this morning?” 

“ Yes ; they said he was coming down-stairs this after- 
noon, but I asked when we ’d be able to see him again, 
and Biddy only grinned, and said, ‘Maybe a month o’ 
Sundays, and maybe next week.’ ” 

“ Oh dear ! ” sighed Winnie again, really for once in 
her life at her wit’s end. “What can we do ? Can you 
say any plan, Murtagh ? ” 

“ The only thing we can do,” said Rose, suddenly 
stopping her tears, “is just to take Theresa back to 
Mrs. Daly’s now, and tell her all about it. I ’m sure 
it’s much the best plan. We haven’t got anywhere to 
put Theresa. She can’t stay here in the laurel all 
night. Soon Donnie ’ll be asking what we do with all 
the scraps she gives us, and I don’t believe if we keep 
her here till doomsday that we ’ll ever get the money 
from Mr. Plunkett.” 

“ Oh, Mr. Murtagh ! ” exclaimed Theresa piteously, 
“ye won’t be sending me home now without the rent.” 

Murtagh gave no answer but a puzzled sigh, while 
Rose continued : “ It ’s just every bit as unkind to 
Theresa keeping her here as it is to us. You can’t do 
her one scrap of good. You ’ll only make her step- 
father angrier and angrier when she goes home for 
every day you keep her here — and there isn’t a bit of 
sense keeping her here ever so long when there ’s 
nothing to keep her for.” 

While Rose was speaking, Winnie, sitting on a low 
branch, stared up through the net-work of twigs at a 
bird’s nest in the top of the trees, her whole attention 
seemingly absorbed by trying to throw laurel-berries into 
it. Only the impatient swinging movement of her feet 
told that she heard what Rose was saying. 

As Murtagh was still silent Rose thought he was 
beginning to be convinced, and she continued in a 
gentler tone of voice : 


CASTLE BLAITt. 


101 


“ Don’t you see, it really would be awfully silly of us 
if we went on keeping her here any more ? It would 
take us years and years before we saved up two pounds 
out of our Saturday money, and we couldn’t possibly 
hide her for years and years ; now, could we ? So, 
what is the good of keeping her any longer? If her 
step-father is really going to beat her so dreadfully he ’ll 
only do it worse for her staying away. He daren’t kill 
her. If he does we ’ll tell the police about him ; besides, 
I ’m quite sure he won’t. And then it is so dreadful 
hiding her. I’m quite certain the police will find out 
about it soon, and they’ll come and take us and put us 
into prison, and perhaps it will be us will be killed.” 
At the thought Rosie’s tears began to flow again. It is 
so dreadful going to prison. I can’t bear it ; and if we 
could get her back to Mrs. Daly’s now, before the 
police find out anything, then it would be all right.” 

Theresa had listened intently to every word, and now 
with a white face, and a wild, resolute look in her eyes, 
she stood up and said : 

“ I ’m going home. Will ye let me pass, if ye please. 
Miss Rose ? ” 

Rose eagerly stood on one side and held back the 
branches, but Winnie sprang from the seat and caught 
Theresa’s dress, while Murtagh exclaimed : 

“ What do you mean ? ” 

“ I mean,” said Theresa, “ I ’d rather go home. It 
don’t matter what happens to the likes of me.” 

“ It does matter,” returned Murtagh vehemently. “ It 
matters very, very much ; you shan’t go home.” 

“ I don’t want to be havin’ yez taken to prison for 
a poor omadhaun like me,” repeated Theresa, trying to 
tear her dress away from Winnie’s firm hold. 

“ I don’t care what you want ; you shall stay where 
you are till we can do something to help you,” returned 
Murtagh, pulling her into the centre of the bush again, 
while Winnie, turning to Rose, said with flashing eyes : 

“ I think you’re a selfish coward, with your sneaking 
plans, and I wish with all my heart that you weren’t my 
sister, so I do.” 


102 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


“ I don’t believe you are our sister,” added Murtagh, 
passionately. “ If papa heard you he’d never speak to 
you again all the days of your life. And look here — if 
you do turn traitor, and let out one single word of what 

we do. I’ll ” He stopped himself suddenly, and 

Theresa, frightened at the storm she seemed to have 
raised, put her hand on his arm with an imploring, “ Mr. 
Murtagh, dear.” 

Rosie burst into tears again, and sobbed out that 
they were very unkind. After that no one spoke. For 
some minutes Rosie’s stifled sobs were the only sound. 
Then Winnie said : “ I have a plan, Murtagh. How do 
you think this would do ? ” 

Murtagh looked up with a start. He had not been 
thinking of plans. He had been thinking what a little 
coward Rosie was, and that perhaps, after all, she 
couldn’t help it. All girls were, except Winnie. 

“ Supposing,” continued Winnie, “ we w^ere to hide 
her in one of the empty rooms of the house just for the 
present, and then go this afternoon and get to see Mr. 
Plunkett somehow, and get the rent ? ” 

“Yes, that’s the best,” said Murtagh, heartily glad 
to seize any chance of bringing the affair to an end 
without deserting Theresa. 

' “ Come then,” said Winnie, making her way out of 
the bush. “ Run on in front, Bobbo, and see if the 
road ’s clear.” 

“There now,” said Bobbo, turning to Rose, “I think 
that ’s a good plan ; don’t you ? It ’ll soon be all over 
now.” 

“ It would be much better if they took her to Mrs. 
Daly,” replied Rose sulkily, turning her back upon them 
all, and beginning to move slowly towards the house. 

They managed, without meeting any one, to smuggle 
poor Theresa into an empty room, close to their own 
bed-rooms, and having done that they had next to sum- 
mon up all their courage for the meeting with Mr. 
Plunkett. They could not think why they should feel 
so cowardly about it. Often and often before they had 


CASTLE BLAUl. 


103 


been called up after some scrape to receive a rebuke, 
which, from Mr. Plunkett’s lips, was sure to be sharp 
and galling. Sometimes he made them very angry, but 
they had never before felt nervous and trembled at the 
thought of an interview. Generally they went to him 
in a defiant, impudent mood, and talked as much as he 
did, bu^ to-day matters were changed. They had to 
ask him for a favor. And, besides, those dreadful police 
seemed to make everything so different. 

“ What shall we say to him, Win ” asked Murtagh, 
sitting on the banisters of the stairs leading down 
from their rooms. 

“I don’t know exactly,” said Winnie; “Rosie always 
talks to him best.” 

“ I hate talking civilly to him,” remarked Murtagh 
meditatively. 

“ Let Rosie do it,” suggested Bobbo. 

“ I don’t suppose she will,” returned Murtagh, with 
a glance towards the girls’ room where Rosie had ' re- 
mained. “Besides ” 

“ She may just as well be of some use,” said Winnie. 
“ It ’s all because of her that we have to do it in such a 
hurry.” Then raising her voice, she called — “ Rosie ! ” 

“ Well ? ” returned Rosie from the bed-room. 

Winnie waited for Rosie to come, but seeing that she 
did not, she called again — “ Look here ! ” 

“ Well, what do you want ? ” returned Rosie, without 
moving. 

“ Come out here. We can’t go shouting secrets all 
over the house.” 

“ I don’t want to have any secrets,” replied Rosie. 

“ All right ; don’t then,” answered Winnie. 

Murtagh muttered — “Little brute,” adding after a 
pause: “Which of us two is the best for talking?” 

“I will, if you like,” said Winnie. “After all, I 
don’t care. He ’s an old nuisance, and it ’s no use 
bothering our heads what to say to him. Let’s say 
whatever comes to our tongues.” 

“It would be a queer saying I’d say if I did that,” 


104 


CASTLE BLAin. 


returned Murtagh. “However, let’s go and do what- 
ever we ’re going to do.” 

But Bobbo never could make up his mind to feel quite 
comfortable while a quarrel was going on between Rosie 
and Murtagh and Winnie. 

“ I ’ll just see again if Rosie won’t come,” he said. 
“ We had much better keep together.” 

So the others waited while he went back to Rosie’s 
room. 

In the mean time, though Rosie pretended not to care 
what Winnie and Murtagh thought of her, she really 
cared a great deal, and she was standing by the bed- 
room window crying, wishing she had never said any- 
thing about taking Theresa home. However, when Bob- 
bo put his head in at the door and began — ■“! say, 
Rosie — ” she hastily dried her eyes, and her answer 
“ Well ? ” was as grumpy as ever. She didn’t want to 
make them dislike her more, but she could not help 
feeling sulky the minute any one spoke to her. Bobbo 
did not pay any attention to that, but came into the 
room, and continued : 

“ I say, Ro, I wish you ’d come too ; you blarney old 
Plunkett much better than any of us. You might just 
as well come.” 

“ I don’t want to go anywhere where I ’m not wanted,” 
returned Rosie. “ Murtagh and Winnie don’t like me 
helping, so I ’d rather stay here.” 

To all Bobbo’s persuasions she continued to give the 
same answer, till at last, thinking it was no use to stay 
any longer, he took hold of the handle of the door, 
saying: — “ Don’t be a donkey, Ro : Murtagh and Win- 
nie are different, you know. They don’t understand 
about people being afraid, and things. They think it ’s 
so awfully sneaky to be afraid. You ’d much better 
come. 

The door-handle had more effect than all Bobbo’s 
eloquence, and Rosie moved away from the window as 
she answered again: “I don’t want to go anywhere 
where I ’m not wanted.” 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


105 . 


“ Don’t be a duffer. Come along : you ’ll get round 
old^ Plunkett better than any of us,” replied Bobbo, 
seeing that he had gained his point, and turning I’ound 
began to walk away. 

“ I ’m sure I want to help Theresa just as much as 
any one,” said Rosie, as she followed him, “ but Winnie 
and Murtagh don’t like me interfering.” 

“I hope to goodness there will be no women in 
heaven,” ejaculated Murtagh. 

“ Except me. Myrrh,” said Winnie, and then they all 
went clattering down the staircase. 


CHAPTER X. 

B ut as they reached terra Jirma — for taking into 
consideration the manner in which they habitually 
descended it that was scarcely a fit name for the stair- 
case — the first bell rang for dinner, reminding them 
that it would be useless to go yet to the Red House. 
Mr. Plunkett would not be down-stairs till the afternoon. 

They had nothing to give Theresa to eat, so Winnie 
and Bobbo went off to the garden to get her some 
apples, while Murtagh and Rosie returned to the school- 
room. There they found Nessa waiting anxiously for 
news. 

During their absence the wildest reports had come 
up from the village. 

Mrs. Donegan’s story, though exaggerated of course 
in its details by the time it reached the children, was in 
part true. The miller had really given evidence which 
caused some policeman to be sent to search the island 
and the woods that fringed that part of the river. The 
child’s disappearance had naturally caused a great sens- 
ation in the little place. It had been the topic of all 
conversation for several days. In many minds it had 


io6 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


been vaguely connected with the attempt upon Mr. 
Plunkett's life, and if some of the inhabitants of the 
village were better informed as to the latter event, there 
was a very general impression that “ there were terrible 
things going about.” 

The village mind was prepared for a tragic ending of 
the mystery, and now that it seemed on the point of 
being explained the excitement was considerable. A 
small crowd of women and boys trooped off in the same 
direction as the police, in order to have the first news 
of that “ poor, blessed child,” as Theresa was generally 
called, and those who remained behind would have 
thought it a sign of “ rale want o’ feelin’ ” to do any 
work. 

Cabins were left unswept, dinners uncooked, pigs 
unfed. The whole population of the little village turned 
out into the street, and wondered, and conjectured, and 
shook their heads, and had a little drink at the shop at 
the corner just to keep up their spirits; till from one 
cause or another they had worked themselves into a 
state of mind in which accuracy was far from being one 
of the predominant qualities. 

No wonder then that the most extraordinary stories 
were brought to Mrs. Donegan and Nessa. The dis- 
covery of the fire lighted in the island hut was to the 
police of little importance, since it was well known that 
the children spent much of their time there ; but in the 
village it was speedily transformed into circumstantial 
evidence of the crime which every one had long ago 
decided to have been committed. Rumors and conjec- 
tures spread like wild-fire. In vain Mrs. Donegan and 
Nessa tried to find out the truth. Some said one thing 
and some another, and poor old Donnie so implicitly 
believed always the worst account, that Nessa grew 
thoroughly confused, and felt half-terrified at the bar- 
barism of a place where every one seemed to think it 
quite natural and probable that a little girl should be 
carried off and murdered in order to annoy her mother. . 

“ Oh, I am so glad you have come back ! ” she 


CASTLE BLAIE. 


07 


exclaimed, as Murtagh and Rosie entered the school- 
room. “Tell me what is true about Mrs. Daly’s little 
girl. Your countrymen talk so wildly I reall} cannot 
understand them.” 

There was nothing wanting but this to complete the 
children’s distress. They had come to the school-room 
thoroughly wearied out, and they really could not talk 
over the subject of all their troubles. 

“ If you can’t understand Irishmen you can’t under- 
stand me,” replied Murtagh, throwing himself into an 
arm-chair. 

His tone was almost rude. Nessa flushed a little, and 
turning to Rosie she continued : 

“They told us such dreadful stories. They said — • 
they said — the floor of the hut was covered with blood ; 
but one said one thing and one another till it was not 
possible to understand. It is not true, is it ? It cannot 
be true.” 

It was too much ; Rosie could not bear it. Her only 
answer was a burst of tears. 

“Oh, MoJi DieiiT' said Nessa. “Her poor mother! 
Is it so bad as that ? Is she really dead ?• ” 

“ No more dead than I am,” exclaimed Murtagh 
springing from the chair and walking impatiently to the 
window. 

Rosie sobbed on, and Nessa now utterly bewildered 
put her arms round her and asked soothingly : “ What 
is it that makes you cry ? ” 

Rosie twisted herself out of Nessa’s arms and made 
no answer. Nessa looked inquiringly towards Murtagh, 
but he was standing with his back turned to her staring 
out of the 'window, and almost counting every sob of 
Rosie’s. 

At last he turned and said quietly: “Don’t you think 
you had better go up-stairs. Rose ? ” 

Without stopping her tears Rosie went slowly out of 
the room, and they heard her sobs growing fainter and 
fainter as she walked away down the long passage. 

“What is it? ” asked Nessa half-timidly, as the sound 


io8 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


of the last sob died away. “ Is it something about the 
little girl, or have you — ” She stopped, fearing to 
offend Murtagh by suggesting that they might have 
quarreled. 

Poor Murtagh was at his wit’s end. It was all bad 
enough as it was without these questions. He did not 
know what to do. To answer one was only to open the 
way to more. He felt that his secret was on the point 
of slipping from him, and he did not know how to keep it. 

In despair he turned round to his cousin with a mute 
pleading look that said more than words. There were 
no tears in his eyes. They were like the eyes of some 
dumb animal in pain ; they did not ask for help — they 
seemed only to implore a little patience. Nessa had 
never seen a child look like that; she felt as though she 
were in the presence of a real trouble. 

“ Oh, I beg your pardon,” she exclaimed almost invol- 
untarily, and then remembering that Murtagh was only a 
little fellow she put her arms round his neck and kissed 
him. 

“ Don’t be so sad,” she said. 

Murtagh’s heart bounded at her kindness. It w^as 
nearly five years since any one had caressed him so. 
He kissed her warmly back again, tears that had not 
been there before springing to his eyes. Then little 
Ellie ran into the school-room, and bounding into Nessa’s 
arms imperiously commanded her to “turn to dinner, 
turn to dinner, betoz I is so hungry.” 

The luncheon-bell ringing ioudly seconded her request, 
and they all moved away together to the dining-room. 

Ellie was in high spirits, and Murtagh and Nessa 
devoted themselves to the little lady, till towards the 
middle of dinner Winnie and Bobbo came in from the 
garden. 

“You are rather late,” said Nessa. 

“Yes,” replied Winnie ; “we were getting apples, and 
Bland nearly caught us, so we had to run round the 
long way. He did catch me, but I wriggled away from 
him. We brought the apples all safe,” she added, 
turning to Murtagh. 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


log 


“All right,” said Murtagh shortly. 

Winnie glanced quickly from him to Nessa, and then 
subsided into silence. 

“ I thought you ought not to take the apples,” said 
Nessa. 

“No,” 'replied Bobbo, “but we had to; we wanted 
them.” 

The children were bad actors. Nessa wondered what 
was the matter, and wondered why none of them made 
the slightest allusion to the event which had apparently 
been so deeply interesting to them in the morning. It 
flashed across her that they were in some way connected 
with the disappearance of the little girl, but the idea 
seemed so improbable that she could scarcely* accept it. 
She would not try to guess their secret ; so she did for 
them what they could not do for themselves — she made 
conversation, and almost succeeded in covering their 
embarrassment. 

After luncheon she was standing before the drawing- 
room fire, when the door opened and Murtagh ran in. 
To her surprise he threw his arms round her and kissed 
ber. Then, blushing a little at what he had done, he 
said earnestly : 

“You ’re awfully kind. I ’ll tell you about everything 
this evening,” and without waiting for her to answer he 
ran away again. 

His heart had been deeply touched by her sympathy 
in the morning, and when they had all started to go to 
the Red House he felt a sudden impulse to rush into 
the drawing-room and thank her. It was so quickly 
done that the others did not miss him. He joined them 
before they reached the door, and they slowly proceeded 
together across the park. 

Rosie was with them, and having completely recovered 
from her fit of crying she was very anxious now to regain 
her place in Winnie’s and Murtagh’s esteem. 

All the time that the others had been at dinner she 
had spent in thinking. She felt really sorry for having 
broken down and cried before Nessa. If Murtagh and 


I TO 


CASTLE BLAIE. 


Winnie had been angry with her for that, she could have 
understood them much better. That did deserve their 
contempt. “ It was very hard too,” she thought, “just 
at the end, when they were going to get the rent and 
have all the happy part of taking Theresa home, that she 
should be separat?ed from them, as it were, and lose her 
share in the pleasure.” Above all, she could not bear 
to be thought cowardly and stupid. She liked people to 
be fond of her. The result of her thinking was that she 
determined to do her best to coax Mr. Plunkett to give 
them the rent. “ For if I get the rent for them,” she 
thought, “then they can’t say I didn’t do as much for 
Theresa as any one.” 

Consequently she was in one of her very pleasantest 
humors as she walked across the park, and Winnie and 
Murtagh wondered at her as she talked brightly about 
what she was going to say to Mr. Plunkett, sketched 
little scenes of Mrs. Daly’s delight when Theresa was 
given back to her, and dwelt pleasantly upon how “jolly” 
they would all feel afterwards for having saved Theresa. 

But though they wondered, they were certainly cheered, 
and felt far bolder when they arrived at the Red House 
than they had done for some time past. 

Bland was coming out as they passed in at the 'garden 
gate. He scowled at Winnie and Bobbo, but Winnie 
shrugged her shoulders and looked up at him with such 
a bright laugh that he could scarcely help smiling as he 
hurried away, and growled out in a would-be surly voice: 

“Ye’ll no do well to go in there.” 

Without heeding the warning they went round to the 
back-yard. 

“We want to see Mr. Plunkett, please, Biddy,” said 
Rose to the servant, who was hanging out clothes to dry. 

“Faix it’s roses at Christmas-time we’ll be havin’ 
soon,” returned Biddy with a good-natured laugh. But 
the children were in no mood for joking, even at Mr. 
Plunkett’s expense, so they walked soberly up to the 
door, while Rose asked what room he was in. 

“ Ye ’re -joking, Miss Rose,” replied Biddy. “You 


CASTLE BLATR. 


I 


wouldn’t be goin’ in to him in rale earnest. Why it’s 
like a mad bull in a china shop he is to-day, with the 
polis cornin’ in an’ out, and one thing an’ another,” 

“But we must go in,” said Murtagh. “We have 
some business that we must speak to him about.” ' 

“Sure, ^Mr. Murtagh, honey, is it going to be married 
ye are, and come for him to draw out the dockiments ? ” 
answered Biddy, laughing outright. 

“Stop being a donkey, Biddy,” said Winnie decidedly, 
“ and tell us where he is.” 

“ Where is he .? By St. Patrick, if he was where I ’d 
like him to be, it ’s the fardest end o’ the pole from 
Biddy Connolly.” 

“Shut up your tomfoolery,” said Bobbo impatiently, 
while Winnie exclaimed : 

“Come along; let us go in without her.” 

But at that Biddy dropped the wet clothes she held 
into the basket, and ran to the doorway. 

“ Is it mad ye are, Miss Rose? Ye can’t go in there. 
The missus ’d be out upon me in a minnit if I let yez in. 
Poor Missus, God bless her ! the way she do slave after 
that old skinflint ! ” 

“ Do let us in,” said Rose, coaxingly. “ We ’ve got 
business.” 

“1 can’t, Miss Rose. ’Deed I can not. You don’t 
know the bother he ’d kick up ! ” 

“ Oh, nonsense ! ” exclaimed Winnie, pushing past ; 
“we can’t help it; perhaps it ’ll bother him well again,” 

And so with a little more insistance, and more ex- 
postulations from Biddy, they made their way to the 
parlor and knocked at the door. 

“ Come in,” called Mr. Plunkett. 

“ If ye will, ye will, an’ I can’t help yez,” remarked 
Biddy, shaking her head compassionately as the chil- 
dren went into the room. 

Mr. Plunkett was sitting ‘in an arm-chair next the 
window, ^vith his back turned to the door. There was 
no one else in the room, and having entered, the 
children stood hesitating for a moment near the door 


1 12 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


where he could not see them. Now that they were 
actually in his room their courage seemed all to have 
vanished. Their hearts were beating fast, they had a 
queer sensation in their throats, and not one of them 
could have spoken a word just then. 

“ Is that you, Marion ? ” inquired Mr. Plunkett, in a 
voice so gentle that the children could scarcely believe 
it was Mr. Plunkett who was speaking. 

“No,” faltered Rosie. Then plucking up courage 
she advanced towards his chair, and said in her most 
winning manner : “ I hope you ’re feeling better now. 
It was so unlucky, wasn’t it, that you fell under poor 
Black Shandy ? ” 

“ Thank you ; I am somewhat recovered,” replied 
Mr. Plunkett in his usual severe voice, and the children 
no longer doubted their ears. 

“ Did it hurt you very much ? ” inquired Rosie. 

“ I suffered considerably.” 

“ I ’m so sorry,” said Rosie. “ I do hate being hurt 
so.” After a little pause she continued, the color 
mounting to her cheeks : “We have come to ask you a 
favor, and we do hope you ’ll grant it.” Here she 
paused again, blushing violently, and not quite knowing 
how to proceed. Murtagh, Winnie, and Bobbo came 
slowly into view, and Mr. Plunkett’s face on seeing 
them did not look as though he were going to grant a 
favor. 

“ By what door did you come in ? ” he inquired 
sharply. 

“ We came in together by the back door,” answered 
Winnie. 

“I should like to know where Bridget was. These 
Irish servants are all alike careless and gossiping. I sup- 
pose her mind is too much taken up by the village 
mystery to allow her to pay attention to work.” 

“ I ’d rather have one Irish than ” began Mur- 

tagh indignantly, his temper rising as usual in Mr. 
Plunkett’s presence, but Winnie trod on his foot and 
reduced him to silence. 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


II3 


^‘We all know, sir, that you would rather anything 
which gives you an opportunity for contradiction,” re- 
turned Mr. Plunkett severely. “ Perhaps if you had had 
as much trouble as I have had about the disappearance 
of this girl, you would prefer not to have the additional 
one of seeing )’our servants abandon their work and 
leave your house open to whoever chooses to enter.” 

Winnie nudged Murtagh again as a hint to remain 
silent, but a sense of justice to Biddy made him answer: 

“ Biddy didn’t run away from her work. She didn’t 
want us to come in.” 

“ And I suppose you thought my house was like your 
uncle ’s garden, to be broken into at pleasure when you 
want something out of it. Bland has just been with me, 
and he tells me you have been taking apples again, if 
it were not for this unfortunate accident, I can assure 
you you should be punished as you deserve.” 

Murtagh made no answer. After a short silence Mr. 
Plunkett turned to Rosie and said : “Well, and what is 
the favor I am expected to grant ? ” 

Poor Rosie felt that it was almost impossible now to 
ask it. She blushed and stammered : “I — I — at least 
— we — I mean — ” 

“ Be so kind as to speak plainly. I do not understand 
what you are asking,” said Mr. Plunkett. 

Rosie looked as if she were going to cry, but Winnie 
in her clear voice said : 

“ We want you, please, to let Mrs. Daly off paying the 
two sovereigns she owes for her rent.” 

Now that it was out the children all breathed more 
freely. Rose recovered herself, and they stood waiting 
anxiously for Mr. Plunkett’s reply. 

He was surprised. He had expected them to ask 
something for themselves, and he was fully prepared to 
refuse, but this request astonished him so much that he 
paused. Though a hard man he was not at heart so 
disagreeable as the children imagined. To them he 
could not speak kindly, for he honestly believed them to 
be bad, but he spoke kindly to his own well-brought-up 
8 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


II4 


children, and he had in his way felt sorry for poor Mrs. 
Daly in her trouble. 

For a moment he felt almost inclined to say yes. 
But then he considered that when the moment came for 
arranging such matters with Peter Daly there would be 
no necessity for the interference of the children, and he 
felt in no way disposed to give them a gratification. 

The children stood like little statues while he thought. 
It seemed a good sign that he should take so long about 
it. At last the answer came : 

“The paying of rent is a business transaction which 
does not in any way concern you. You may be quite 
sure that as your uncle’s representative I will do what- 
ever is right in the matter. And now, will you allow 
me to beg that at another time you will not force your 
way into my house when my servants tell you that it is 
contrary to my orders for any one to be admitted.” And 
Mr. Plunkett taking up a newspaper began to read. 

“ But are you going to let her off paying ? ” inquired 
Winnie, standing on one foot and scratching up and 
down the stocking with, the point of the other boot. 
“We want to know awfully badly.” 

“ I shall do what I consider right after consulting 
with your uncle.” 

“Oh, I know Uncle Blair will say ‘Give it to her,’” 
said Rosie ; “ and if you would say ‘ Yes ’ now, we would 
be so very much obliged. We have a most particular 
reason for wanting it.” 

“ It will be quite time enough to consider such 
matters when something more certain is known of 
the fate of the poor woman’s daughter,” returned Mr. 
Plunkett. 

“ Oh, but,” said Rose, not feeling quite sure how 
much to tell, “ perhaps if it was quite certain about the 
money then there would be some more known about 
Theresa. You know,” she added coaxingly, “there are 
such wonderful little fairies in the world that know all 
about everything.” 

“ What do you mean ? ” exclaimed Mr. Plunkett sitting 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


II5 


up straight in his chair. “ You can’t mean to say ! ” 

But there his feelings seemed to become too strong for 
words, and he paused, looking at Murtagh. 

“ We mean to say,” said Rose, in a pleasant voice, 
rapidly determining that whatever happened she v/ould 
not go , away without letting him know that they had 
Theresa, “ that if you ’ll give us the rent for Mrs. Daly 
perhaps we ’ll find Theresa and bring her back all safe 
and sound. Don’t we, Murtagh ? ” 

“But we mean to -say, too,” said Murtagh grimly, 
looking at Rose, “ that we can’t possibly find out any- 
thing about her, nor say a single word more, unless we 
do get the rent.” 

“ This is too much ! ” exclaimed Mr. Plunkett. “ Do 
you mean to tell me, you graceless young- scoundrel, that 
your pranks are at the bottom of all the trouble and 
worry we have had "i Do you mean to say that for 
your own amusement you have given me all this 
trouble with the police, turned a whole village upside 
down for a week, and nearly killed a poor suffering 
woman with anxiety for her lost child ! I have no 
language to express my opinion of you, sir.” 

“My dear James!” exclaimed Mrs. Plunkett, 
coming into the room at that moment. “ What is the 
matter? Rosie I Bobbo 1 Winnie! arid Murtagh!” she 
added in astonishment. “ How in the world did you 
get into this room? Did you send for them, James? 
VVTat have they been doing? You know, dear, the 
doctors said you were not to be excited.” 

“ It is of little use for doctors or for any one to lay 
down rules while' such children as these are allowed to 
run wild,” replied Mr. Plunkett. 

“ Though you have confessed it yourselves,” he con- 
tinued, turning to Murtagh, “ I can scarcely believe that 
you can have behaved in a manner so totally devoid of 
all Christian feeling. But it is the old story : mischief 
is your god. So long as you can have the excitement 
of a bit of mischief you care nothing at all for the 
feelings of others ; and I have no doubt it seems to 


ii6 


CASTLE BLAIE. 


you an excellent joke to persuade a dying woman’s child 
to run away, and to embitter the last days of a poor 
mother’s life. 

“ I suppose that between you, you have lost, or per- 
haps spent, the money entrusted to the child, and now 
you think that to take it out of your uncle’s pocket will 
be an easy way of paying it back. It does not surprise 
me in you, Murtagh; but was there not one among you,” 
he added, looking at the other three, “ who could have 
remembered that you hold the position of young ladies 
and gentlemen ? ” 

“You see you set us such a good example o! forget- 
ting what a gentleman is like, that we really couldn’t be 
expected to remember,” replied Murtagh, coolly. 

“When you come to my house I must beg that 
you will not be insolent, sir,” replied Mr. Plunkett 
angrily. 

“Come along, Myrrh; don’t be silly,” said Winnie, 
moving towards the door. “ How could he know why 
gentlemen do things ? ” 

“Winnie,” exclaimed Mrs. Plunkett, “how can 
you talk in such a way ? ” 

“ Mr. Plunkett shouldn’t be so impertinent to 
Murtagh,” returned Winnie, who had two hot red spots 
in her cheeks. 

“ I never saw such children in my life. I ’m sure I 
pity that poor young girl who has to live amongst you,” 
said Mrs. Plunkett, half crying. “ To speak of my 
husband in such a manner ! ” 

“ Serve him right ! ” ejaculated Bobbo. 

“You deserve, every one of you, to have your ears 
boxed,” exclaimed Mrs. Plunkett, who was at no time 
famous for self-control. 

“ Catch us first,” laughed Winnie. “ Come along, 
Bobbo.” She led the way down the passage as she 
spoke, and in another minute they were far on their way 
across the park, their cause hopelessly and irretrieva- 
bly lost. 


CASTLE BLAIB. 


117 


CHAPTER XI. 

T ’LL tell you what,” said Murtagh, when they were 

X once more at home, and had fully realized that Mr. 
Plunkett had not only refused them the rent but what 
was more he knew that they were hiding Theresa, “ I 
told Nessa I ’d tell her everything this evening. You 
see, I thought it would be all right by then; and sup- 
posing we went down and told her now, and got her to 
help us.” 

The others were silent ; it was rather a bold proposal. 

“She’s like us, you know,” suggested Murtagh. “I 
think she ’d understand about things.” 

Rosie looked anxiously towards Winnie, hoping she 
would say yes, but not venturing herself to give an 
opinion. 

“All right,” said Winnie, after considering a minute. 
“ I think that ’s best. She might know of some plan.” 

“ Let us go then,” said Murtagh. “ Whatever we do 
we ought to be quick about.” 

It was easy to be quick about getting to the drawing- 
room door, but there they paused. When they came to 
think about it, Theresa really was an awkward subject 
of conversation ; and after the experience they had just 
had with Mr. Plunkett they began to feel doubtful as to 
what view Nessa might take of the matter. 

However, something had to be done ; so taking their 
courage in their two hands they somewhat shamefacedly 
entered the room. Nessa, with a big dictionary in her 
lap, was sitting reading Italian by the fire, and she paid 
little attention to their entry. 

They none of them knew how to begin, but stood 
upon the hearth-rug alternately looking at her and glano 


ii8 


CASTLE BLAin. 


ing inquiringly at each other. The longer the silence 
lasted the more impossible did it seem to break it. At 
last Winnie began to poke the fire, and that gave Mur- 
tagh courage. 

“ I say,” he began. But then Winnie stopped poking 
to listen to him, and the dead silence was too discon- 
certing; he stopped short as suddenly as he had begun. 

“ What were you going to say ” asked Nessa, raising 
her eyes from her book. And then in sudden surprise 
at the perturbed countenances of the children, she 
exclaimed, “Why, what is the matter.?” 

“ Well,” said Murtagh, plunging without further hesi- 
tation into his subject, “ we don’t know what to do, and 
we want to talk to you. We Ve been thinking about 
you, and we thought, you know, that you’re different 
somehow. I mean we thought you ’d think true about 
things instead of only about ‘ Christian ’ and ‘ mischief,’ 
and ‘young ladies and gentlemen.’ I mean,” he con- 
tinued, contracting his forehead as he puzzled himself 
with his own attempt to explain, “ it ’s so queer the way 
people are. If things are kind, or brave, or anything, 
then they talk about young ladies and gentlemen ; and 
the things seem all wrong, somehow — but they aren’t 
really wrong, you know, all the time ; only it makes me 
get in such a rage.” 

“I — I don’t think I quite understand,” said Nessa, 
fairly bewildered in her attempt to follow the meaning 
of his somewhat complicated preamble. 

“Well, I mean — ” said Murtagh. “We’ve got 
Theresa, you know.’’ 

“You have what?” exclaimed Nessa, more puzzled 
than ever. His last words were plain enough, certainly, 
but they could not possibly mean what they seemed to 
mean. In vain she tried to see the smallest connection 
between them and the foregoing sentences. 

“ I beg your pardon. It ’s very stupid of me,” she 
said, apologetically ; “ but I really don’t understand. 
It must be some English I don’t know.” 

“No, no,” said Murtagh. “You’ll be able to under- 


.CASTLE BLAIR. 


II9 


stand quite well. We ’ll tell you how it happened, and 
then you ’ll see. It was the day after you came. We 
were going up the river fishing; and Ellie couldn’t — 
Win, you tell it ; you ’ll tell it better than me.” 

The children’s embarrassment was completely gone 
now. - They were only eager for Nessa to know all 
about it ; and beginning at the beginning Winnie, with 
various interruptions from the others, told the whole 
story to the end. 

Nessa’s amazement, when she began to understand 
the drift of what they had to tell her, was unbounded. 
She did not know children ever did things like that. 
But before the end of the story her warmest sympathies 
were enlisted in their cause. 

“ You see,” said Murtagh, when Winnie had described 
the way in which Mr. Plunkett had received their 
request, “ we never thought about anything except that 
horrible step-father, and how nice it would be taking her 
back with the rent and all. And you remember the way 
Mrs. Daly talked about her husband on Sunday. Well, 
of course, that only made us think of it more. But 
Mr. Plunkett always manages to make everything seem 
wicked, and he makes me wicked in reality. The very 
feel of him in the air makes me angry before he speaks 
a word. I do hate him so ! ” 

“Yes,” said Nessa, looking troubled. '“It is wicked 
to hate. I wish you would not feel like that, because 
then you are wrong too. And listen,” she continued, 
turning her face toward Murtagh, who had thrown him- 
self on the floor beside her; “I am sure the reason 
why he is so disagreeable is just only because he does 
not understand.” 

“ He never does understand,” returned Murtagh 
vehemently. “ He doesn’t choose to understand ; he 
likes to be unjust ! ” 

With a sudden impulsive movement she threw her 
arms round his neck. “ Don’t be like that,” she said 
in her sweet pleading voice ; “ please don't. It is such 
a pity.” 


20 


CASTLE BLAIli. 


Murtagh had drawn himself up in his anger. At 
Nessa’s caress his muscles relaxed, his face lightened 
with a slow trembling. Then, possessing himself of one 
of her hands, he kissed it without a word. 

It was not in the least like a child’s answer. For the 
second time that day Nessa felt as though Murtagh 
were somehow older than she. She looked at him with 
a sort of surprise, but the strange expression was already 
gone, and the face he turned up to her was full of affec- 
tionate gratitude. 

“And now,” she said, “ let us count our resources.” 
She drew a little green leather purse from her pocket as 
she spoke, and emptied its contents on to the open 
dictionary. “ But I have not enough,” she added, look- 
ing up almost apologetically. “ How much money have 
you } ” 

“ I ’ve got a shilling,” said Rosie. 

“ I ’ve only twopence,” said Winnie ; “ Bobbo, and I 
have been saving up. He has a penny half-penny.” 

“ I haven’t any,” said Murtagh, shaking his head. 

Little Ellie, who had been sitting on the rug looking 
exceedingly solemn while the children talked, gazed 
attentively at Nessa, and the money, and then got up 
and trotted silently out of the room. 

“Well, that is all,” said Nessa, after searching in each 
compartment of her purse; “we must do the best we 
can with it.” 

“Yes, but,” said Murtagh, “We don’t want to take 
your money. It isn’t right you should give it. We 
couldn’t promise your money. We meant to get it.” 

“You see it is a good thing to have an elder sister,” 
replied Nessa, glancing up from her occupation of 
counting the coins spread out upon the pages of the 
dictionary. 

“And besides, Murtagh,” said Rosie, who felt that 
Murtagh was not to be trusted, “if you won’t take 
Theresa home without the rent it really is the only way. 
I don’t like taking your money either,” she added, 
coloring and turning toward Nessa, “ but what can we 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


21 


do ? We haven’t got any except one and twopence 
halfpenny.” 

“I should think you very unkind,” said Nessa seri- 
ously, speaking to Murtagh, “ if you did not take what I 
have. But,” she added, “even with your money we 
have not enough.” 

“Well then,” exclaimed Murtagh decidedly, “it is 
no use for us to take yours. We can’t take her back 
without the whole rent. We must just hide her up in 
the mountains, and I expect Uncle Blair will make Mr. 
Plunkett let them off the rent when he knows that will 
bring Theresa back. We can hide her in some safe 
place, and nobody on earth can make us say where she 
is if we don’t choose.” 

“Oh, Murtagh !” exclaimed Nessa, “you don’t know 
what you are saying. It would be enough to kill Mrs. 
Daly. Even if you had not a sou you must take Theresa 
back at once. You don’t know — you don’t know — ” 
Nessa’s voice was choked, she could not finish her sen- 
tence. She had witnessed the grief of the patient 
desolate mother. Only yesterday the poor woman had 
said to her with quiet hopelessness: “Yes, Ma’am, 
I ’m dying — thank God.” 

And they could talk of prolonging the pain. 

“You don’t know,” she said, raising her head and 
drying the tears that had suddenly overflowed. “You 
meant to be kind, and you did do all you could. But — • 
Mrs. Daly loves Theresa.” 

Her voice was trembling again, and she did not trust 
herself to say any more. Murtagh was looking at hei 
in consternation. Then all they had done had been a 
mistake ; there was no doubting the meaning of those 
last few words. His eyes sought Winnie’s. Poor 
children, they were sorely disappointed ! 

But Nessa had hardly finished speaking when the 
door was pushed open, and little Elbe rushed into the 
room shaking a tin money-box up and down. 

“Elbe’s dold money! Elbe’s dold money!” she 
exclaimed triumphantly. Her little face was beaming 


122 


CASTLE BLATE. 


with excitement, and running up to Murtagh she thrust 
the money-box into his hands. 

“ Ellie ’ll dive the money; det it out with the scissors,” 
she said. Then ecstatically squeezing herself together 
she rubbed her hands up and down her cheeks till her 
face was burning red. 

“Dear little Ellie !” exclaimed Nessa, astonished at 
the sudden outburst of excitement and taking the child 
in her arms, while Murtagh tried with a pair of scissors 
to extract the money from the box. 

“It’s her half-sovereign that Cousin Jane gave her 
last Christmas,” exclaimed Winnie. “ So it is ; Donnie ’s 
kept it for her all this time.” 

“It’s Elbe’s own dold money,” said Ellie, with her 
arms tight round Nessa’s neck. 

In the pleasure of seeing the rent completed, Murtagh 
forgot his scruples about Nessa’s money. 

“ Three cheers for Ellie,” he cried, tossing the money- 
box up to the ceiling as a glittering half-sovereign fell 
out upon the table. “It’s just right now.” 

“ We want one halfpenny more,” said practical Winnie. 

“ Ellie ’s dot a ha’penny too,” exclaimed the child in 
delight, wriggling herself down on the floor, “out in the 
darden.” 

“That’s a rum place for halfpennies,” remarked 
Bobbo. 

“It’s planted,” said Ellie. “For seed,” she added 
gravely, seeing the others inclined to smile. 

The children all began to laugh, and Rosie exclaimed : 
“You little silly! you don’t suppose money grows from 
seed, do you ? ” 

Instantly Ellie was- transformed back again into her 
usual quiet little self. 

“ Me thought ha’pennies might,” she murmured, and 
hid away behind Nessa. 

“I think it is true,” said Nessa. “I think we do 
plant money for seed, sometimes. Only not exactly in 
the garden,” she added, smiling as she kissed little Ellie. 

And now, there lay the much-wished-for two pounds 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


123 


on the table, and the children were free to take Theresa 
home that minute. A load was off their minds, and the 
relief was so great that at first they could hardly realize 
it, but they did not feel happy as they had expected to 
feel. 

There was no pleasure in looking forward to the 
meeting with Mrs. Daly. Murtagh felt rather ashamed 
than otherwise, and wished it was over. Everything had 
happened so differently from their plans. They did not 
know how it was ; it did not seem to be their fault; but 
glad as they were to be so near the end of their troubles, 
it was without any feeling of pleasurable excitement that 
they gathered the money and went to set Theresa free. 

Theresa, however, felt nothing but the wildest delight. 
Bobbo first announced to her the good news. He burst 
into the room where she’was hidden, exclaiming, “ We ’ve 
got it, Theresa ; we ’ve got it.” Then Rose followed 
rattling the money in her hands, and Theresa, who could 
hardly believe the news at first, saw that it was really 
true. 

“ Ah, Mr. Murtagh, Miss Winnie dear, God bless ye, 
God bless yez all ! ” she exclaimed, springing from the 
corner where she had been sitting, and seizing hold of 
Murtagh’s hands. Half-laughing, half-crying with excite- 
ment, she tried to get out some more words of thanks, 
but could say nothing. Then exclaiming, “Glory be to 
God,” she suddenly sank down upon her knees and burst 
into tears. 

But they were tears of gladness and were over quickly. 
Drying her eyes with her apron she sprang up again and 
ran towards the door, saying delightedly, “ My mother ! 
Let’s run down to her quick. Ah sure, won’t she be 
glad to see us ! ” 

The children followed with pleased faces, and as they 
trooped down the stairs Theresa poured out expressions 
of her thanks and of her delight at getting home. 

“Ah, I ’ll never be able to thank yez right. Let us go 
on a bit quicker,” she was exclaiming, when they rushed 
round a corner of the passage and nearly knocked Mrs, 


124 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


Donegan off her legs as she was coming slowly along, 
carrying a cup of tea for Nessa. 

“ By all the blessed saints and martyrs, and is that 
you, Theresa Curran ? ” she exclaimed, fixing her eyes 
upon Theresa, and forgetting in her astonishment to 
pick up the teacup, which had been dashed to pieces on 
the floor. “ Riz up from the dead, with the police after 
you, and the master himself payin’ your expenses, an’ 
all.” 

“ Take a good look at her, Donnie, while you ’re about 
it. It’ll be a long time before you see any one else 
risen up from the dead, with the police after them, and 
the master paying their, expenses,” laughed Murtagh, 
whose spirits were rapidly rising under the influence of 
Theresa’s joy. 

Theresa, blushing and trying not to laugh, curtsied at 
Mrs. Donegan’s notice of her, and the children, without 
waiting for more, carried her off like a whirlwind towards 
the drawing-room. 

Donnie followed as close upon their heels as she 
could. “ Miss Nessa, did ye ever hear of such a thing.? ” 
she exclaimed, as the children rushing in presented 
Theresa with an unceremonious “ Here she is.” 

Theresa stood blushing with such a supremely happy 
face, and the children around her were all so radiant, 
that the infection spread to Nessa, who laughed like a 
child as she answered in the words Donnie was so fond 
of using, “They’re wonderful children.” 

“ What is it at all .? ” inquired Mrs. Donegan. “ Did 
they find her when the police couldn’t?” 

“ That ’s it exactly, Donnie,” laughed Winnie. “ Come 
along, Nessa. Where’s your hat? Don’t stand pala- 
vering with Donnie or we shan’t get to Mrs. Daly’s till 
midnight.” 

“Turn ’long,” urged Elbe, pulling Nessa’s hand. 

“It’s wonderful we are entu^Xy” said Murtagh, turn- 
ing round for a last mock at Donnie as they went out of 
the room. 

“Mr. Launcelot’s to the backbone,” muttered Donnie, 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


125 


lifting up her hands. She stood a minute or two after 
she was left alone, murmuring, “Well, it’s wonderful to 
think of,” and then hurried away to the kitchen to tell 
the great piece of news that Theresa was found, that the 
children were cleverer than all the police, and found her 
themselves in no time when once they went to look for 
her. 


CHAPTER XII. 



‘HERESA and Mrs. Donegan had between them 


X put the children into the brightest of moods, and 
as they danced across the lawn they completely forgot 
all the wrong side of their adventure and their misgivings 
about meeting Mrs. Daly. 

At the gates some of the lodge-keeper’s children were 
playing. The instant they saw Theresa, one ran in 
shouting the news to his mother, and the others set off 
like deer to the village calling out to every one they met 
that the young ladies and gentlemen were coming down 
the road bringing Theresa along-with them. 

“What a nuisance!” said Rosie. “Now we shan’t 
be the first to tell Mrs. Daly.” 

“ Pat I Mick ! Biddy I ” shouted Bobbo. “ Come 
back, will you 1 ” But it was no use ; they were too far 
down the road to pay any attention. 

“ Perhaps that is better,” said Nessa. “ She is too 
weak for a great surprise.” 

But Nessa was not prepared for the other effect of 
having the news spread before them. 

Every one, man, woman, and child, who heard it, first . 
refused to believe, and then were told to go and see for 
themselves ; so by the time Theresa and her escort 
reached the village they were surrounded by a miscel- 
laneous crowd, the members of which were not all quite 
sober, were all wanting to get near Theresa to see if 


126 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


she were there in “ real earnest,” and were all asking 
questions as to how she was found, and where she was 
found, and “ what happened her.” 

With each addition to their party the children’s spirits 
rose higher and higher. They were determined not to 
satisfy any one’s curiosity, and to every question they 
responded with some bit of nonsense. They knew 
every one’s private history, and bandied jokes with each 
new comer till their progress along the road was ac- 
companied by continuous roars- of laughter interspersed 
with a sort of hail of questions! 

“ Ah, now tell us ! How was it ye outwitted the 
polls an’ found her when they couldn’t ? ” called one. 

“ Outwitted the police,” returned Winnie. “ Have 
you come to your age, Kitty, and don’t know yet that 
the police have got no wits to put out ? ” 

“Thrue for ye. Miss Winnie, asthore ; it’s me own 
wits are out to ask such a question ! ” 

“ But where did yez find her ? ” asked another, push- 
ing Kitty aside. 

“ Why where the police didn’t find her, of course ! ” 
laughed Murtagh. 

“ Then it ’s plenty o’ places ye had to choose from ; 
but tell us now, Mr. Murtagh, honey, how did yez find 
her.? Was she half-dead or how was she .? ” 

“ Not half-dead at all, but dead and a half, and pining 
for a sight of you, Mrs. Malachy,” replied Murtagh, 
turning to the village schoolmistress. 

“ Sure, Theresa ! Is it yer ownself come back ? ” 
cried a woman from the edge of the crowd. “ Tell out 
now ; who was it spirited ye away .? ” 

“The fairies — the good people,” cried Rose and 
Winnie together, while Theresa blushed and laughed. 

“ Ah, Mr. Murtagh, my jewel, give over jokin’ and 
tell us where ye found her,” called Kitty again, having 
elbowed her way back close to them. 

“ Wouldn’t any one know you’re a woman, Kitty?” 
began Murtagh, when a man on the other side of him 
interrupted in a heavy voice : 


-CASTLE BLAIR. 


127 


“ Don’t tell her a word, Mr. Murtagh ; she ’s the 
Euriousest woman in the place.” 

“ And you ’d like me to tell you instead,” said Mur- 
tagh, looking up with a merry twinkle at the light blue 
stupid eyes. “Ah, well, if you want to know, it was 
Miss Winnie’s bright eyes did the business.” 

“ But however was it she did it ? ” asked the man. 

For shame, Phelim. Were you born on April fool’s 
day not to know that?” laughed Murtagh. “You’d 
better go home and find out.” 

“Go to Shuna Toolin an’ get her to teach ye,” called 
out several voices amid fresh derisive laughter. 

“ Tell us round here. Master Bobbo, honey, that niver 
asked a question,” cried a woman persuasively, divining 
justly that she would get most out of Bobbo. 

“ Well, it was up there by the river, if you want to 
know so badly,” returned Bobbo. 

“Up by the river ! Why sure that ’s where the police 
looked and niver found a bit of her ! ” cried several 
voices together. 

“ Don’t be insulting us comparing us to those omad- 
hauns of police, that don’t know a whisky press when 
they see one,” called Murtagh. 

Roars of laughter interspersed with “ Arrah whisht, 
Mr. Murtagh,” greeted that remark. Then some one 
cried out, “ Three cheers for the young ladies and 
gentlemen,” and Nessa’s bewildered ears were deafened 
with three loud “Hurrahs.” 

“ Three groans for the polls ! ” called another. 

In the midst of the hearty groan with which he 
responded to the invitation, Murtagh caught sight of 
Nessa trying to lift little Elbe out of the crush. 

“ Carry Miss Ellie, will you, Pat Molo'ny ? ” he called 
out, laughing as he spoke, at the quaint expression of 
Nessa’s face. Thrusting out two dirty kindly arms from 
behind her, Pat Molony lifted Ellie over Nessa’s head, 
saying gallantly : “ It ’s not fit for the, likes o’ you. Miss, 
to be carrying childer. It ’s more like a white lily ye 
are ; ” and when Nessa looked round to thank him she 


128 


CASTLE BLAIE. 


saw Ellie contentedly sitting on his shoulder, with one 
arm round his dirty neck. 

In this fashion, joking and laughing, they passed 
through the village and out on the road close to Mrs. 
Daly’s cabin. Then some ran on to tell her they were 
coming, and Theresa and the children, refusing to an- 
swer any more questions, made their way through the 
crowd, and hurried forward. At the garden-gate 
Theresa passed them all, and rushed into the cottage 
alone. 

Murtagh and Winnie were close behind her. They 
overheard a smothered cry, then — “ Oh, my darlint ! 
my darlint ! is it you yourself ? ” and there was something 
in the intensity of the voice that made them suddenly 
stop short. The laughter died from their faces, and 
they stood looking at each other. A strange awe had 
fallen upon them. The noisy laughing crowd seemed 
far away ; they heard only the kisses that were being 
exchanged in the dark cottage, and children as they 
were, they understood suddenly something of what the 
mother had suffered. 

Through all their adventure they had neyer given one 
thought to her, till Nessa’s emotion this afternoon had 
first opened their eyes. They had forgotten so many 
things, and now as they stood looking wistfully into 
each other’s faces they were filled with remorse. What 
was it that had been wrong in all this ? Something had 
they felt, and yet it had seemed right. Neither of them 
spoke, they only looked at one another, but they knew 
that the same thought filled both their minds. 

They did not think of entering the cottage, and the 
crowd seeing them stand still, stood still too. A fear ran 
through it that they were too late, — that Mrs. Daly had 
died without seeing her daughter. The noise and laugh- 
ter were suddenly hushed. Some one said, “ What ’s 
happened?” Faces were turned anxiously towards the 
door. It was as though a spell had fallen upon them, 
and for a minute, while Winnie and Murtagh stood 
gazing into each other’s eyes, there was a dead silence. 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


129 


They neither of them ever forgot that strange hush and 
the bewildering thoughts that filled it. 

The silence was broken by Mrs. Daly’s voice in the 
cottage saying : “ An’ where are they till I thank 
them ? ” 

Then Theresa ran to the door to call them in, and 
the crowd seeing that all was right, broke into speech 
again and trooped into the cottage after the children. 

Mrs. Daly was sitting up in the bed ; Theresa knelt 
beside her with her arms around her neck. 

“ I ’ll never be able to thank yez right,” said Mrs. 
Daly, stretching out two thin hands towards the children ; 
“ but if ye care for a poor woman’s blessing may it follow 
ye to the end of your days. And may none of ye evei 
feel the hundredth part of the sorra’ I ’ve had since she ’s 
been gone from me.” 

“True for ye, Mrs. Daly. May they have peace and 
happiness all the days of their life for the good turn 
they’ve done to the poor this day,” cried some from 
behind with a ring of feeling in their voices. 

The children stood by the bedside blushing. 

“But we didn’t,” said Murtagh to Mrs. Daly — 
didn’t do what you think; I mean, we didn’t find her 
to-day. We knew where she was ; we helped her to hide 
from her step-father when she lost the rent ; but she ’s 
got it now.” He spoke with difficulty, and he was glad 
to have got it all out. 

Mrs. Daly hardly seemed to pay attention to the sense 
of the words. She had got her arms round Theresa and 
was thinking onl^' ^f her. 

“It’s all one,” she answered. “Ye’ve brought her 
back alive, an’ I thought she was dead.” 

A few minutes more and the children had left the cot- 
tage. The crowd stayed behind anxious to hear at last 
Theresa’s story, and they walked soberly along the road 
with Nessa. 

“Isn’t it delightful,” said Rosie, “to think that it’s all 
so well over ? ” 

“Berry belightful,” returned Elbe so emphatically that 
9 


3 ° 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


she made them all laugh. But then she wanted to 
know — “What for all the people were laughin’?” and 
while Rose explained, the other children walked on 
silently. They were not inclined to talk about it yet. 


CHAPTER XIII. 

I N the mean time Mr. Blair had heard from Mr. 

Plunkett an account of the children’s behavior 
which was certainly not flattering to them, and at dinner 
that evening he spoke about it to Nessa. 

“ Mr. Plunkett does not know how to manage people,” 
she said, after she had explained the story from the 
children’s point of view. “ It is a pity.” 

“ Ah ! ” said her uncle, amused at the quaint gravity 
with which she announced her opinion. 

“I do not like him,” she continued. “He is hard. 
He is bad for the children.” 

“ What ! have you been thinking about it ? ” said her 
uncle, smiling. “ If you have I suppose you must be 
right, but you astonish me. I thought he was wonder- 
fully good for the children.” 

“No,” said Nessa, “because he does not understand 
them, and he does not like them. He makes them 
angry. Listen,” she continued ; “ I think it would be 
very difficult for these children to be good. They have 
but two things. Mr. Plunkett thinks that all they do is 
wrong, and the others — the other people — think that all 
is right. It is very bad for them. It is bad for them to 
be so much scolded, and it is bad for them to be so much 
flattered.” 

“ So Plunkett thinks all is wrong, does he ? ” asked 
Mr. Blair. 

“Yes,” said Nessa; “he does not see anything but 
the wrong, and he scolds the children, oh, in such a very 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


31 


disagreeable way. He stirs up all their wicked thoughts ; 
he makes them proud and angry; and then I think they 
like to do what he does not want.” 

“ But, my dear child, that is the only rule I have ever 
been able to discover for children’s behavior. They 
always like to do what I don’t want,” said her uncle. 
“ Why do they always bang the doors ? Why do they 
always shout under my windows ? Why do they get up 
at six o’clock in the morning and clatter up and down 
the passage when I am enjoying my soundest sleep 
Answer me all these questions if you can, little advocate.” 

“ They bang the doors because they are always in a 
hurry,” said Nessa, smiling. “And they shout because 
they are happy. And they get up early — — Well, the 
birds get up early too.” 

“ Well, well, well,” replied her uncle, laughing, “ if you 
will have it your own way I suppose you must. But you 
must learn to appreciate Plunkett’s other qualities. He 
is a splendid fellow; he saves me more trouble than 
twenty other men would do in his place.” 

“Perhaps he is very useful,” said Nessa, willing 
always to be polite. “ But he is not interesting,” she 
added decidedly. 

“ He is most interesting to me,” returned Mr. Blair, 
still laughing. “ I have twenty pounds now for every ten 
I used to have, and he has succeeded in making the cot- 
tagers round about keep roofs on their houses, and 
conform to a few other customs of civilization, unpictur- 
esque perhaps, but very desirable. He has done it at the 
risk of his life too,” he continued, in a more serious tone. 
“ More than one of the men about here would think it a 
praiseworthy action to shoot him from behind a hedge 
some dark night. Plunkett knows it, and after all, little 
lady, your martyrs of the middle ages did not do so very 
much more than persevere in their duty when they knew 
it might cost them their life.” 

“Yes, that is brave,” said Nessa, looking up. 

Her uncle’s words made Mr. Plunkett’s character 
appear to her in a new light, but they gave her an 


132 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


unpleasant creeping sensation. She was beginning to 
think that Ireland was a very unsafe place to live in. 

“Well,” said her uncle, as they rose to leave the din- 
ing room, “ are you convinced now of Plunkett’s excellent 
qualities ? ” 

“ Yes,” replied Nessa, coming back to her former train 
of thought, “but ” 

“ But what ? ” 

“ I do not think I could like him ; he is not kind.” 

“ Ah, you true woman ! ” replied Mr. Blair, as he held 
the door open for her. “You won’t acknowledge your- 
self beaten ; but ask his little daughter Marion if he is 
not kind.” 

Instead of going to the drawing-room Nessa went 
straight to the school-room to join the children, but she 
found it empty ; the children were out, Peggy told her. 
Intending to wait for them a little while she went to the 
window and threw it open to see what the night was like. 
The air was warm for an autumn evening, and very still. 
No sound to be heard but the rippling of the river. In 
the dark blue sky above shone the full moon ; and the 
park, gently undulating, lay gleaming in its silvery light. 
Deep black shadows from the trees fell here and there, 
but not a breath stirred the branches. It seemed as 
though the world were all asleep, and the river singing a 
lullaby. 

Nessa rested her arms on the window-sill, and stayed 
there looking out. The. events of the day had made her 
wonderfully thoughtful, and this moonlit park was more 
in keeping with her mood than the warm, bright drawing- 
room. After a while, however, her thoughts slid gradu- 
ally into fancies, and she found herself dreamingly gazing 
out, imagining how fairies might haunt those shadowy 
hollows and come out from among the trees to dance on 
the silvered slopes. 

The flowing of the stream seemed to interweave itself 
W’ith her fancies, and make music for mystic dancing. 
She was not thinking; the beauty of the night, the still- 
ness, the soft cadence of the water, played upon her mind 


CASTLE BLAm. 


133 


and made sweet dreamy pictures there, till at last with 
the fairy music mixed something more tangible — sounds 
that seemed to be actually coming nearer. 

Surely those last notes were real. They swelled by 
degrees into a plaintive melody that floated for a moment 
on the still air, then sunk again. The water rippled on 
over its stony bed, and Nessa looking at the dark trees 
and moonlit grass, half-wondered if the music had really 
been or if she had only imagined it. 

Presently the sweet notes rose again, clearer this time 
and fuller, gaining strength as they went on. Then a 
fresh young voice began to sing strange words that Nessa 
did not understand, but that seemed to blend in harmony 
with the stream, and the night, and her fancies. The 
music came nearer and nearer; another voice joined the 
first, but after a while both music and voices died away. 
A faint reflection, as it were, of the sounds lingered in 
the air; and Nessa, listening for more, heard them soon 
again coming from a different direction. They seemed 
in some mysterious way to be behind her. She wondered 
how that could be, and then became aware that they 
were in the house, crossing the hall and coming down 
the passage. The music was plain enough now, — a vio- 
lin ; and a girl’s and a boy’s voice together were singing 
a wild Irish song. 

“ Can it be the children ? ” thought Nessa, as she 
turned away from the window to listen. Soon her doubt 
was set at rest; the door of the school-room slowly 
opened, and Winnie entered singing, followed by Mur- 
tagh, who was playing the violin and singing too. 

They did not see Nessa, who had withdrawn into the 
shadow of the curtain, but stood still together in a broad 
strip of moonlight near the table singing as though their 
whole souls were in the song. Winnie’s head was a 
little thrown back, her face looked white, her eyes 
unnaturally large and dark in the strange light. Murtagh 
had bent his head to one side over the violin, and his 
face was in shadow. 

Nessa stood entranced watching the weird little figures. 


134 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


But as their voices rose to a sort of strange sweet wail 
that formed the refrain of their song, Murtagh’s hand 
slipped. A sudden shriek of wrong notes was the result ; 
both the children stopped singing, and he impatiently 
flung the violin on the table, exclaiming : “ That ’s always 
the way when I ’m just getting it best.” 

“There’s a string gone, and that’ll be sixpence to 
save up before we can have another singing night,” 
remarked Winnie, ruefully, as a slight snap from the 
violin announced the mischief that had been done. 

Nessa advanced from the window, and suggested that 
perhaps the string would be long enough to be used 
again. 

“ Are you there ? ” exclaimed Winnie, taking up the 
violin. “ No ; it ’s the same string that broke last time. 
Myrrh,” she continued, “I do wish you wouldn’t pitch 
the violin about so ; couldn’t you remember to give it to 
me every time instead of throwing it down ? ” 

“ Especially,” remarked Rosie, who had come in with 
Bobbo, “ when it ’s all your fault. If you practised every 
day the way you promised mamma, you ’d never make 
those horrid squeaks.” 

• “ Shut up ! ” said Murtagh, flinging himself down on 
the hearth-rug beside the chair on which Nessa had 
seated herself. 

Winnie hovered about watching Nessa’s useless en- 
deavors to make a short string long enough, and finally 
settled down also upon the hearth-rug ; while Rosie, 
after surveying them for a moment, remarked that she 
was going to bed, and went away up-stairs. 

“You’ll be throwing it in the river by mistake some 
of these nights, Murtagh,” said Bobbo, drawing near to 
inspect the violin, “ and that ’ll be an awful nuisance.” 

“Don’t bother him!” said Winnie. “We are so 
tired.” 

Bobbo made no answer, but sat down on the floor 
beside her. 

“ I ’m sick and tired of everything,” exclaimed Mur- 
tagh presently. Everything ’s wrong and wrong and 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


35 


wrong whatever you do ; I think I ’d like to be nice and 
quietly dead, then things wouldn’t be all so puzzling.” 

“ I ’m so tired now,” said Winnie, wearily laying her 
head on a footstool, “ that I think I ’d like to be dead or 
anything where you don’t feel.” 

“Poor children ! ” said Nessa, “you are tired out.” 
“It isn’t being tired I mind,” said Murtagh, wearily; 
“ but it ’s so dreadfully difficult all about what ’s right 
and what ’s wrong. I cannot understand about it, and 
I wish — yes, I really do wish I was dead.” 

“ But that is not brave,” said Nessa gently. “ I do 
not think we need be afraid of our lives,” she continued, 
after a moment’s silence, “because there is always so 
much good that we don’t know of. I felt afraid when I 
had to come here, and now I am very happy after all.” 

“Yes, but,” said Murtagh, “it isn’t like that; only it 
does puzzle me so about the wrong sides of things. We 
were so wretched all the week trying to keep Theresa, 
and we couldn’t laugh at anything, and when we woke 
up in the morning we thought about her the first thing. 
But then we thought we ought to keep her; we thought 
Rosie was talking nonsense. Well, afterwards, all of a 
sudden, we find out we were all wrong somehow ! ” 

“ Oh no,” said Nessa, “you were not all wrong. How 
can you say that when you were so kind and so brave .? ” 
“ Murtagh’s face brightened for a moment, but then 
he said: “Yes; but Winnie and I have been thinking, 
and it came right in the end because you helped us ; but 
we didn’t bring it right. We only made Mrs. Daly 
miserable, and Theresa miserable, and ourselves miser- 
able. We wouldn’t desert her because we always thought 
it was beastly mean deserting people, and all the time 
Rosie was right; and it is very funny, being brave is 
worse than being cowardly.” 

“Ah,” said Nessa, “but you are mistaking the part 
that was wrong. If you had been older you would not 
have hidden Theresa in the island at all, because you 
would have known all the trouble it would bring ; you 
would have come at once to Uncle Blair. But then you 


136 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


couldn’t help not being older, and when you had hidden 
her there, much the best thing you could do was to be 
brave. If you had taken her back at first you would 
never have got the money.” 

The explanation satisfied Murtagh for a moment, but 
then he said: “It wasn’t our keeping her that got the 
money. If you hadn’t been here we could never have 
got it. And supposing it had done what Mr. Plunkett 
said ; supposing it had killed Mrs. Daly ? ” 

But Nessa was not accustomed to explain things, and 
she felt that she was growing puzzled. She was not 
puzzled a bit by the fact — of course she knew that it 
was better to be brave than to be cowardly, better to try 
to help people when they are in trouble than to leave 
them to take care of themselves — but by the difficulty 
of putting her conviction into words. 

“ I don’t know how to explain,” she said at last; “but 
I know I love you for doing as you did.” 

Bobbo sitting nearest her gave her hand a fervent 
squeeze. It was new and pleasant to them to be loved. 

“And wait one moment,” she continued; “I think 
now I can explain a little too. You know we are not 
perfect, and the thing we have to do is to try and be as 
good as we can. We are quite sure to make mistakes, 
but I think we ought to be brave enough to go on trying 
and trying to the end ; and then God is kind ; he will 
let us have done most good by the time we have to stop. 
Don’t you think so ? ” 

“ I think if you were always there we should always 
do most good,” said Murtagh warmly, kneeling beside 
her. 

And Nessa, changing her manner, laughed and kissed 
his forehead, saying: “Ah, you mad fellow, if I were 
always with you I would not let you do so many foolish 
things, and you would wish me very far away.” 


CASTLE BLAin, 


137 


CHAPTER XIV. 

T he children’s waking on the following day was a 
very happy one. For the last week the remem- 
brance of Theresa had fallen like a cloud upon them the 
instant they opened their eyes, but this morning they 
sprang with light hearts from their beds. That trouble 
was over and gone, and all the world looked bright in 
consequence. It was the day for Indian letters too, the 
day that they all loved best in the fortnight, for there 
were generally two good letters, one from papa and one 
from mamma, and papa’s letters especially were almost 
like stories, only better. Out of doors the sun shone, 
the wind was warm, birds were singing among the red- 
dening leaves, the river sparkled and flashed invitingly. 
It was more like a day in August than October, and the 
children resolved to enjoy it. 

They danced with joyous faces into the dining-room 
to breakfast ; they seemed created to be happy. Their 
uncle was not there, and the post-bag lying by his plate 
was locked. Murtagh might smell it, shake it, try to lift 
up the flap and peep as much as he pleased, his anxiety 
for a letter had to remain unsatisfied till Mr. Blair made 
his appearance. But then, could anything be more 
delightful.^ — a hice fat letter from papa for Murtagh, 
and one from mamma for Rosie. 

No sooner was Murtagh’s handed to him than he 
bounded with it out of the window. There Nessa saw 
him kiss it, turn head over heels three or four times on 
the grass, and then tear away at full speed round the 
corner of the house. Breakfast was nearly over when 
he returned, with a radiant face, and handed the letter 
to Winnie to read, remarking, “ It ’s awfully nice.” 


138 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


“Yes; and isn’t it nice that you are to have half a 
sovereign for your birthday? ” said Rosie, giving him her 
letter. 

“ Oh, yes, awfully jolly. Papa says I am to have one 
from Mr. Plunkett,” he added, turning to his uncle. 
“ Does he tell you ? he says he will.” 

“Yes,” said Mr. Blair. “ When is your birthday ?” 

“ Wednesday week,” replied Murtagh. “ Come along 
out,” he exclaimed, after devoting himself during an 
interval of about three minutes to his breakfast, “ and 
let us read what the pretty mother says. You come too, 
Nessa, and you shall hear papa’s letter also. We ’ll go 
to the big chestnut-tree ; that ’s where we always read 
their letters aloud.” And taking a bit of bread to 
supplement his hasty meal, he rose from the table and 
led the way out.- 

“We get up in the branches,” said Rosie, when a 
few minutes later they were walking along out of doors, 
“ and sometimes we pretend it ’s a sort of church.” 

“ Only, last letter day,” said Winnie, “ we pretended 
we were a family of squirrels, and mamma’s letter was 
a dear little white dove flown over the seas to tell us 
not to steal nuts and apples from the other squirrels. 
Of course, you know, she didn’t say anything about 
them really, but she often does tell us to be good, and 
that’s the same as not stealing is for squirrels. It’s 
such fun pretending, and then we put little pieces in the 
letters.” 

“ And then we went off to Nut Wood to get ourselves 
some instead of stealing,” said Bobbo, “ and when 
Winnie was up in the very top branch of the bull’s-eye 
tree, Mr. Plunkett came past and saw her, and called 
out, ‘ What are you stealing those nuts for ? ’ ” 

“ And I thought about him being a squirrel, and run- 
ning up and down the trees whisking his tail,” inter- 
rupted Winnie, “ and I laughed so much I tumbled off 
the tree, and gave myself such a whack I haven ’t quite 
got well yet.” 

“ And another day we were just Irish kings and 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


39 


queens, the way we generally are, and papa’s letter was 
some river fairies come down to warn us about some 
scoundrelly English taking our chief palace — that ’s the 
island, you know. We rushed up there at once, and lo 
and behold ! when we got there what do you think we 
found? That old piggamy, Mr. Plunkett, had chopped 
down our watch-tower, a splendid old oak-tree that had 
its branches blasted with lightning, the only one on the 
island. So the English had been there true enough.” 

They chattered on in this fashion till the big chestnut 
tree was reached, — a splendid old tree, with gnarled 
trunk and spreading branches. In a moment the chil- 
dren were in it, looking indeed not unlike a family of 
squirrels as they scrambled about and peeped at Nessa 
through the clusters of pointed leaves. 

Nessa had never been in a tree in her life, but the 
children seemed to look upon it as so easy and natural 
a place of habitation, that she merrily accepted their 
invitation to mount. 

“ Will it be difficult to get up there ? ” she asked, 
indica^ting a place about four or five feet from the ground 
where the trunk spread out into three great branches. 

“Oh no, no,” exclaimed the children, “as easy as 
possible. Here, take hold of our hands, and set your 
foot on that sort of bump lower down, then you can 
walk up like going up stairs.” 

They stretched out their hands and in a moment 
Nessa was seated in the tree. 

“ Shamrocks and Shillelaghs ! There ’s Mr. Plunkett 
out again, and he ’s seen you, Nessa,” cried Winnie in 
delight, “ and oh, he does look so jolly shocked ! ” 

Nessa was enchanted with her novel position. 
“Never mind Mr. Plunkett,” she said gaily. “Let us 
read the letters now.” 

“ What shall we be to-day ? ” said Winnie. “ Nessa 
couldn’t be a squirrel exactly, you know.” 

“ We ’ll be Irish kings and queens,” said Murtagh, 
“ and Nessa will be a stranger who has brought us these 
letters from a far-away king.” 


140 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


“Oh yes,” said Winnie. “And you’ll live with us 
for a while, and afterwards we ’ll discover you ’re an 
Irish princess who was stolen away when she was a 
baby. Now then. Myrrh ! ” 

Nessa settled herself into her place with a little 
pleased laugh. It was much pleasanter to be out of 
doors this morning than in the drawing-room. Murtagh 
read the letters aloud. The children had read them 
five or six times already, but they listened with the 
greatest delight, laughing again at the little jokes, and 
telling Nessa to “just listen to this!” when any par- 
ticularly nice part was coming. 

“ Now,” said Murtagh, when the letters w’ere quite 
finished, “come along with us, and we’ll show you our 
dominions.” 

“Yes,” said Rosie. “It ’s too bad; she ’s been here 
a whole week, and we ’ve never shown her our islands, 
nor nut-wood, nor the mushroom-field, nor the moun- 
tains.” 

“I ’ll tell you what, Myrrh,” exclaimed Winnie, struck 
by a sudden inspiration, “ we ’ll have a picnic up the 
mountains on your birthday. What do you think of 
that?” 

“Yes,” said Murtagh, “and oh. Win, a plan has just 
come into my head. Such a beauty ! I ’ll tell you 
presently.” 

“ Is it a secret ? ” asked Rosie. 

“ Yes. But I ’ll tell you too, by-and-by. Oh, it is so 
jolly ; you ’ll go cracky when you hear it.” And being 
unable to turn head over heels Murtagh relieved his 
feelings by springing to the ground. 

Having once got into the tree Nessa would gladly have 
spent the morning there. But the children had no notion 
of allowing the appreciation of their roost to take that 
form, and for the next two or three hours she was trot- 
ted backwards and forwards from one favorite place to 
another, till when twelve o’clock came she was glad to 
go with the children to the back-door and receive at 
Donnie 3 hands a glass of milk and a slice of brown 
cake. 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


I4I 


The children would not have left her then but for their 
anxiety to talk over Murtagh’s plan. He had already in 
whispers confided to them the rough sketch of it, and it 
promised indeed to be so delightful that after disposing 
of their cake and milk in the yard they could restrain 
themselves no longer ; and, leaving Nessa to enter the 
house alone, they merrily scampered back to the chest- 
nut-tree to hold their consultation. 

Their wonderful plan was simply this : that they were 
to discover Nessa to be the real princess of their tribe, 
and on Murtagh’s birthday they were to have on the 
mountains the grand ceremony of crowning and receiving 
her into the tribe. It was the details of the plan that 
were so specially delightful, Murtagh said; particu- 
larly one. 

“ Now then, listen,” he said, when they had all got 
back to the chestnut-tree, and he had settled himself 
comfortably astride a thick branch; “it’s all been 
floating into my head the whole of this morning, and I ’ll 
tell you just how I ’ve planned it. We ’ll have a regular 
grand — what d’ye call it? like when the Lord Lieuten- 
ant was made Knight of St. Patrick, up ” 

“ Ceremony,” interpolated Winnie. 

“ Yes, ceremony, up in the ruins. We ’ll make a 
throne of stones in the middle of the court-yard, and 
we ’ll decorate it with green branches. Then we ’ll have 
garlands of evergreens and hollyhocks, and loop them 
up on the walls all round, and we ’ll have a green ribbon 
and a wreath of shamrocks. And I ’ll be sitting on the 
throne, and all the followers standing round. Then you 
four will bring her up the mountain, and as soon as she 
comes near, the followers will run forward and scatter 
shamrocks on the ground for her to walk over, and 
she ’ll be led up to the throne. Then I ’ll get down off 
the throne, and I ’ll say, ‘ Will you reign over us, our 
princess ? and will you promise to be true to our tribe ? ’ 
or something like that, and she’ll say, ‘Yes,’ and I ’ll 
tie the green ribbon round her arm. Then comes the 
beautiful part of the plan ! I ’ll make her promise to 
hate Mr. Plunkett, and to defend us against him.” 


142 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


“ Oh, Murtagh ! ” exclaimed Rosie. “ You won’t be 
able to do that. You know she’s grown up and she 
would never promise that.” 

“ Yes, but you don’t know how I ’m going to do it,” 
returned Murtagh triumphantly. “Just wait till you 
hear. After I Ve put on the ribbon I ’ll take up the 
shamrock wreath, and I ’ll say : ‘ Kneel down, and 
promise to hate the Agents, and to defend your tribe 
against them.’ And she won’t know, you see, about 
Mr. Plunkett being an Agent ; she ’ll only know about 
them being something very bad, and so she ’ll say 
‘ Yes.’ ” 

“ Then she ’ll be bound to help us when we get into 
scrapes with him ; won’t she ? ” asked Bobbo. 

“ Of course she will,” returned Murtagh. “ She ’ll 
be as much one of the tribe as you are, then.” 

“Oh, I say. Myrrh,” cried Winnie, clapping her 
hands, “ it ’s perfectly delicious. What a sell for old 
Plunkett ! ” 

“What an awful lark'! ” said Bobbo. “It will serve 
him out so jolly right I ” 

“ And look here. Myrrh,” said Winnie, whose head 
was already full of minor details ; “ you must get a 
string for the violin with sixpence of your birthday 
money, and we ’ll teach all the children to sing some 
songs — ‘The Wearing of the Green,! and ‘the Shan 
Van Vaugh,’ and ” 

“Yes,” said Murtagh, but I haven’t told you yet 
what we ’re going to do with the rest of the money. 
You only know half the plan. With all the rest of the 
money we ’ll buy buns and things for the followers to 
eat, and Donnie ’ll give us a lot of tea, so they ’ll have 
a kind of school-feast after the ceremony ; because, you 
know, they ’ll be awfully hungry, and they will be so 
pleased.” 

Never had any one imagined a more delightful birth- 
day plan, and the children proceeded eagerly to discuss 
ever}' possible detail. The number of buns and barm- 
bracks had to be calculated, the “ followers’ ” appetites 


CASTLE BLAIR, 


143 


guessed at ; their voices, their appearance, the songs to 
he chosen, the dec'^rations, the order of the ceremony, 
— all were subjects of the warmest interest. 

“ Isn’t papa a dear old blessing of a father, remem- 
bering about my birthday all that way off, and sending me 
half a sovereign 1 ” exclaimed Murtagh, gratefully pull- 
ing his letter out of his pocket and looking at it. “ I 
never knew any one like him in all my life, he does 
think about things so. I wonder if he knew what a lot 
of fun we should have with it ! ” 

“ Oh, and I ’ll tell you what we must do. Myrrh ! ” 
exclaimed Winnie, completely engrossed by the matter 
in hand. “ Every one of the followers must have a 
large green branch in his hand, like Birnam wood in the 
theatre. It ’ll make them look more. You remember 
about Macbeth in the theatre,” she explained, seeing 
Rosie looked puzzled. 

Oh yes, of course,” replied Rosie, who didn’t 
remember a bit. “ And I ’ll tell you, too, we ’ll get a lot 
of apples for the feast. They ’ll be nearly as great a 
treat as cakes for the followers, because they never have 
any.” 

“ Yes, yes,” cried Bobbo. But Murtagh objected. 

“No,” he said decidedly, poking his letter into his 
pocket again. “We won’t.” 

“ Hullo ! ” remarked Bobbo. “ Why not "i ” 

“ Well,” said Murtagh, looking at Winnie in hopes of 
support, “ I don’t want to have anything wrong at all in 
this - plan. It’s just to be a bit of fun, and so I think 
we had better keep clear of old Plunkett.” 

“ Oh, stuff ! ” said Rosie. “ Apples are nothing. 
He ’s used to us taking them.” 

“Yes, but,” replied Murtagh, “papa gave us the 
money, and the grown-up people would all say we 
oughtn’t to take them, so I vote we leave the beastly 
things alone. He ’s sure to make it an excuse for 
talking to us.” 

It was Murtagh’s plan, and Murtagh’s birthday, so he 
had a right to decide. But when the question of the 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


M4 


apples was settled a thousand other questions arose, and 
they were far from being all decided when the second 
dinner-bell summoned the children to the house. 

But the village children had to be made acquainted as 
soon as possible with the fact that their services would 
be required, and as the tribe that the children were so 
fond of talking about consisted exclusively of their five 
selves, they felt that there was some difficulty about 
calling together the honorary members upon whom they 
had so recently conferred the rank and title of 
followers. 

However there was Pat O’Toole, a young friend and 
favorite of Murtagh’s, to whom they had once confided 
their notion of enrolling themselves into a tribe, and 
there was Theresa Curran, who might fairly now be said 
to belong to it, and with these two to help they would 
easily be able to organize their festival. 

A proposal from Nessa to go and visit Mrs. Daly 
after lunch was therefore accepted with delight, and 
while she sat and chatted with Mrs. Daly the children 
carried off Theresa for a consultation. Pat O’Toole 
also was summoned, and the wonderful plan was un- 
folded. It was received with enthusiasm. Anything 
the young ladies and gentlemen wanted was sure to be 
found charming, and this manner of doing honor to 
Nessa was just after the hearts of the people, with 
whom she was already in highest favor. 

It was all even more easy to arrange than the chil- 
dren had expected. Pat and Theresa charged them- 
selves with collecting the “followers,” and Murtagh 
gleefully gave orders that they were to assemble that 
very afternoon for a first singing practice on one of the 
little islands. 

The children came dancing home, elated and happy. 
What a pity all days were not like this day ! Everything 
went well, and they felt so good and bright as they 
raced and capered about the lawns. 

Nessa went in-doors on her return from the village, 
but they never went in till evening, and to-day of all 
days it was impossible to sit still. 


CASTLE BLAIE. 


145 


Alas ! their little active feet were always tripping into 
mischief. After a time they took it into their heads to 
go and prepare the island for the singing meeting. To 
reach it they had to cross a little bridge quite close to 
the garden-gate, and unfortunately, as they were racing 
back after having completed their preparations, they 
came upon Bland driving a horse and cart through the 
river. The horse had refused to cross the bridge, which 
was without a parapet ; and as the children came up 
they found that Bland had by precaution taken out the 
lading of the cart before driving through the water. 
Large baskets of apples stood ranged side by side upon 
the bridge. 

“ Ha, ha ! ” cried Bland, seeing the children as he 
landed the cart safely and began to load it again. 
“ We Ve conquered you at last, my young gentlemen. 
You ’ll have to do without apples now whether you like 
it or not. Every one in the garden was picked this 
morning by Mr. Plunkett’s orders.” 

“ I ’m sure I don’t care,” replied Murtagh, feeling too 
good-humored to be annoyed. “ I Hon’t want the beastly 
things.” 

“ Sour grapes, young gentleman, sour grapes ! ” replied 
Bland, chuckling. “ I daresay you were on your way 
to the garden now, if the truth were known.” 

“ We weren’t anything of the sort, as it happens,” said 
Bobbo. 

“ We ’d made up our minds just this very morning not 
to take any,” added Rosie. 

“ Easy talking. Words don’t cost much ; but I ’d have 
been sorry to trust you under a tree of ripe apples,” 
returned Bland, wiping his face after the exertion of 
getting one of the baskets mto the cart. 

“ Shut up your impudence,” said Murtagh, “ or I ’ll 
just turn one of these baskets into the river, to show you 
how little we care for your stupid old garden stuff.” 

“ Oh, ay. It ’s not so pleasant being circumvented. 
I don’t wonder you don’t like it. But here ’s an end of 
your apple-eating for this winter. In another hour every 

lO 


146 


CASTLB BLAIR. 


apple that was in the garden this morning will be ‘safe 
in the apple-room, and the key in Mr. Plunkett’s pocket.” 

“ Here, Myrrh, ' said Winnie laughing, and pushing 
one of the heavy baskets as she spoke, “ help me to give 
it a shove, and we ’ll teach them not to crow before 
they ’re out of the bush. Hurrah, there it goes ! What 
do you think of that, Mr. Bland } ” she cried triumph- 
antly, as with the help of a hearty push from Bobbo and 
Murtagh the basket toppled over into the river, and a 
bushel of rosy-cheeked apples bobbed up and down in 
the rapid current. Then, without waiting for any answer 
from indignant Bland, the children all ran away laughing, 
leaving him to finish loading his cart, and to go to Mr. 
Plunkett with another complaint of their unruliness. 

“ What a pity I did it though. Myrrh ! I ’m very 
sorry,” said Winnie, with a queer twinkle in her eyes, as 
they stopped on the hall-door steps. “ But I forgot all 
about meaning not to take any more apples. It was 
such a jolly sell for Bland, just when he thought he ’d 
got them so safe ; and he didn’t think we ’d do it really.” 

“ I ’d like to see Mr. Plunkett’s face when Bland tells 
him,” said Bobbo laughing. “ Why, we took more apples 
that way than we ’d have taken in two months just for 
eating ! It ’ll teach him to try and circumvent us.” 

“ I ’m sorry all the same,” returned Winnie, laughing 
in spite of herself. “ I am really. Myrrh.” 

“You don’t look very bad,” answered Murtagh. 
“ Still if you want to cry I ’ll run and get you a pocket- 
handkerchief.” 

Just then they overheard Nessa’s voice through the 
open drawing-room door, saying: “Have you asked 
Master Murtagh.? He might possibly know what has 
become of them.” 

“ Master Murtagh ! Master Murtagh ’s not far off, 
and if it ’s anything important I ’ve no objection to go 
and ask his opinion,” exclaimed Murtagh, taking a flying 
leap over one of the hall-chairs, and confronting Mrs. 
Donegal! as she made her appearance through a doorway. 

“’Deed, Master Murtagh,” returned Donnie, “it’s no 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


H7 


matter for joking. The only two decent shirts you have 
in the world have gone clean out of your linen drawer. 
I Ve hunted for them high and low, and you ’ll have to 
go to church to-morrow without a rag to your back. It ’s 
too bad the way the things is spirited here and spirited 
there. You can’t lay a thing out of your hand but it’s 
gone before you turn round.” 

Murtagh and Winnie being in an excitable state of 
high spirits, both burst out laughing, and Bobbo called 
out : “ It was’nt your shirts she had, was it ” 

“ Yes,” ejaculated Winnie through her laughter. “ Oh, 
Donnie, for goodness’ sake, don’t look so funny; you’ll 
kill me with laughing. Look here,” she continued, 
holding her sides and trying to control her mirth, “ you 
needn’t look so astonished; she wanted them a great 
deal worse than Murtagh, and she hadn’t got any money 
to buy some.” 

“ Miss Winnie, how can you talk in such a way ! Do 
you suppose, I ’d like to know, that I hemmed and 
stitched at them shirts for you to give ’em away ? ” 
returned Mrs. Donegan indignantly. “You ought to be 
ashamed of yourself, Miss, to go and leave your brother 
'without a thing to go to church in of a Sunday morning.” 

“ I have a splendid new flannel petticoat,” laughed 
Winnie, “ and I ’ll lend it to him with all the pleasure in 
life.” 

“ It ’s time such doings were put a stop to,” returned 
Mrs. Donegan. “ Mr. Murtagh, how could ye think of 
doing such a thing ? ” 

“ I ’ve been to Mr. Murtagh,” returned Murtagh grave- 
ly, “and he says he can’t give any opinion on the 
matter.” 

“Then you may tell him from me he ought to be 
ashamed of himself, an’ it would be a good thing if he ’d 
given Ifls opinion before now. I ’m sure I have more 
bother than enough with him,” returned Mrs. Donegan, 
for once quite out of temper ; “ and now I ’ll have to stand 
and argufy half an hour with Mr. Plunkett before I get 
the money for some new ones.” 


148 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


“ Did you know where they were, Murtagh ? ” asked 
Nessa, coming to the drawing-room door. 

“Yes,” replied Murtagh, not quite certain whether he 
felt inclined to laugh or to blush. And then Winnie 
explained how they had gone. 

“Ye’d make a mighty generous churchwarden,” 
remarked Donnie, as she walked off in high dudgeon 
to the kitchen. 

The children troubled themselves very little about 
Donnie’s scolding. But Nessa told them that she did 
not think they ought to give away their clothes ; it was 
not right to be troublesome. And her little exercise of 
elder-sisterly rights awoke sundry uncomfortable scru- 
ples in their minds connected with their late destruction 
of their uncle’s fruit. By tacit consent, however, the 
untimely fate of the apples was not alluded to in Nessa’s 
presence, and next morning the children themselves had 
forgotten it. 

Not so Mr. Plunkett. The incident irritated him ; he 
saw in it a fresh defiance from the children, and when 
next day it was followed by Mrs. Donegan’s request for 
new flannel shirts for Murtagh, he resolved that they 
should be made for once to feel his authority. 


CHAPTER XV. 

~F NEVER heard of such a shame in my life. It ’s 
JL my own money, and I don’t care what you say. 
I will have it. It ’s downright cheating.” 

Murtagh’s white face and angry flashing eyes added 
vehemence to his words. He was standing opposite Mr. 
Plunkett, his little figure drawn up to its full height, one 
foot slightly advanced, one hand resting on a corner of 
the table, his hair tossed his clothes untidy as usual, his 
whole attitude breathing indignation and defiance. 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


149 


The other children stood in a group behind him cast- 
ing hot indignant glances at Mr. Plunkett, who seemed 
quite unmoved. He was standing near the fire with his 
hat on and an umbrella in his hand. He was deter- 
mined not to let himself be provoked into losing his 
temper, and now replied to Murtagh’s words : 

“ To take new clothes for which your father had paid, 
and give them away without his permission, resembles 
stealing. You chose to do it when you thought it would 
cost you nothing, and it is perfectly just that you should 
bear the consequences.’’ 

“ It is not right. It is not just,” returned Murtagh. 
“ Papa said I was to have that half-sovereign as a birth- 
day present, and nobody in the world has a right to keep 
it from me.” 

“Besides,” burst out Winnie, “Murtagh didn’t take 
the shirts ; I took them. I threw the apples in the river 
too, only you always like to fix everything on him.” 

“ It was just the same thing,” replied Mr. Plunkett. 
“ Murtagh should not have allowed them to be taken. 
“You don’t seem to understand,” he continued, address- 
ing Murtagh, and speaking as though Winnie’s remark 
had not been made, “ that in this world if you take what 
does not belong to you you must pay for it. I am the 
steward of your father’s money in all that concerns you, 
and in his interest I intend that you shall pay him back 
for the shirts you chose to give away. Had your general 
conduct been such as to justify me in overlooking this 
offence I should have taken upon myself the responsi- 
bility of paying for your new shirts with his money ; but 
it is not so, and I am in no way disposed to shield you 
from the just consequences of your actions.” 

“It’s not in papa’s interest, you know it isn’t. Just 
as if he would care for two beastly shirts. You ’re just 
doing it because you like to plague us, and oppress us, 
and drive us into being wicked,” replied Murtagh pas- 
sionately. 

“ I tell you what, young gentleman, if you were my 
son for just ten minutes I would teach you not to use 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


150 


such impertinent language to your elders,” returned Mr. 
Plunkett, whose temper was not enduring. 

“ If you don’t want me to talk to you like that you 
shouldn’t behave so. It’s my own money, that papa 
gave me to enjoy ourselves with, and I can’t help talking 
to you in that way when you keep it from me. You 
have no right to.” 

“ I thought you might have listened to reason,” replied 
Mr. Plunkett coldly, “but since you choose to behave 
like an infant you shall be treated like an infant. I have 
the money and I shall keep it. If there is any over 
when your shirts have been paid for, it shall be returned 
to you.” So saying he moved away towards the door. 

“ I have it all,” said Murtagh. “ I don’t care so 
much about the money, but you have no right to keep it 
when it ’s my own that papa gave me.” 

Mr. Plunkett left the room without making any answer. 
But Winnie’s indignation now burst beyond all bounds, 
and dashing to the door she called after hirn : “ He shall 
have every penny of it. It ’s his very own, and if you 
steal it I ’ll steal some of yours. So there now. You 
have fair warning.” 

Nessa happened to be coming down the passage just 
at that moment, and she overheard the speech. 

“ What is the matter .? ” she asked, looking round at 
the angry faces. 

“ Oh, it ’s too bad,” said Winnie ; “ he ’s going to steal 
Murtagh’s half-sovereign that papa gave him. It ’s just 
like him ; he ’s always perfectly delighted to get a chance 
of plaguing us, and he thinks just because he ’s the 
strongest and has got the money, that he ’ll conquer this 
time, but he shan’t, I can tell him.” 

“ What do you mean ? ” said Nessa. “ Steal Murtagh’s 
half-sovereign ! I don’t understand.” 

“ He says he won’t give it to him,” replied Winnie, 
calming down a little. “ He ’s going to keep it to pay 
for the shirts we gave Theresa, and it was my plan about 
cutting them up, and I took them out of the drawer. He 
has no right to take Murtagh’s money to pay for what I 
did.” 


CASTLE BLAIE. 


51 


“And now we can’t have the feast, nor the expedition, 
nor anything,” said Rosie, “and we’ve asked all the 
children. What shall we do ? We can’t tell them not 
to come.” 

Murtagh was too angry to speak a word. He stood 
where Mr. Plunkett had left him, kicking the leg of the 
table, and looking as though at that moment he would 
have cut Mr. Plunkett’s throat with pleasure. 

Nessa looked at him regretfully; and then she asked 
Winnie in a tone almost as disappointed as Rosie’s; 
“ How is it that you did not know till now ? ” 

“ I don’t know,” said Winnie. “ He never said a 
single word till just now he came in here, and we asked 
him to give us the money to-day instead of the day after 
to-morrow, and he said : ‘ I have no money to give you.’ 
First we thought he had forgotten, and we reminded 
him about the half-sovereign. Then he said: ‘You 
spent that some time ago;’ and he told us we were not 
to have it because of the shirts. And it isn’t only that 
he won’t give us our money,” she continued, trying to 
keep down her rising anger, “but oh ! he does do things 
in such a dreadfully disagreeable way. You don’t know 
what he ’s like.” 

“ I am so sorry,” said Nessa, full of unlawful sym- 
pathy. “What can we do ? ” 

“We can’t do anything,” replied Rosie. “We’ll just 
have to disappoint everybody and do without our feast, 
and it was such a beautiful plan. You didn’t know half 
of it.” 

“ He has no right to Murtagh’s money, and he shan’t 
keep it,” said Bobbo, marching indignantly out of the 
room as he spoke. The other children followed him 
away out of doors ; and whatever she might feel for their 
disappointment, Nessa had no further opportunity of 
trying to console them, for she saw no more of them all 
day. 

No further opportunity of trying to console them with 
words, that is to say ; but what would Mr. Plunkett have 
thought had he seen her a little later that afternoon ? 


152 


CASTLE BLAIB. 


She was thoroughly vexed at the notion of the birthday 
being spoilt. The children had confided to her all their 
joy in the prospect of feasting the followers ; they had 
told her how they were determined to have no wrong 
side to this “adventure;” and they had been so happy 
in the anticipation of this perfect birthday that it seemed 
really cruel to deprive them of their innocent pleasure. 

The affair with Theresa had been a mistake from 
beginning to end. What was the use of raking up the 
consequences of it } Yes ; the more Nessa thought, the 
more provoked she felt. Mr. Plunkett did not under- 
stand the children at all. 

But suddenly a brilliant idea crossed her mind. She 
laughed aloud a merry little laugh; then jumping up she 
marched straightway to the kitchen. There dear old 
Donnie was taken into counsel, and with small regard 
for principles of justice they hatched between them a 
plot — well, a plot for which the best excuse they could 
find was, that, as Nessa said, “It was such a pity not to 
be happy on a birthday.” 

“Never you fear. Miss Nessa,” replied Mrs. Donegan. 
“ It ’s me is housekeeper here, thank the Lord, and not 
Mr. Plunkett; and the children shall have a better feast 
than ever they ’d buy with their poor little bit of money. 
Bless their hearts! they don’t know the value of things. 
Whatever does he want, plaguing and worritting them 
for a couple o’ little shirts, as if children won’t be 
children all the world over ! ” 

Nessa discreetly “supposed that Mr. Plunkett had his 
reasons ; ” but her eyes sparkled merrily as she added 
that she thought there could be no harm in giving the 
children a picnic to celebrate the birthday. 

“’Deed and. Miss Nessa, if you want to know the 
truth of it, shadow a bit I care whether it’s harm or no,” 
replied old Donnie, laughing outright. “ If the children 
have the fancy to feast all them dirty little vagabones 
out of the village, why they shall feast them for all the 
Mr. Plunketts ever lived between this and Limerick, 
An’ it ’s a pleasure to me to have the crossing of him fot 
once, so it is.” 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


153 


“Well, don’t tell that to the children, you wicked old 
thing,” replied Nessa, laughing; and away she went 
singing along the passages without one pang of con- 
science for what she had done. 

That evening she gleefully recounted her misdoings 
to her uncle, but the children gave her no opportunity of 
announcing to them the plan that had been arranged 
during their absence ; they did not return to the house 
during the afternoon, and in the evening when Nessa 
went to look for them they were not in the school-room. 

After she was in bed the idea occurred to her that 
perhaps they had not come in. It would be just like 
them to start away up the mountains after tea and not 
come home till the servants were in bed. Nothing 
would have surprised her in them ; and she believed 
them quite capable of spending the night on the wet 
grass under the chestnut-tree if they happened to find 
the doors locked. 

She told herself that the idea was foolish, but having 
once got it into her head she could not get it out again. 
And so, after turning and twisting two or three times 
upon her pillow, she decided that the best thing she 
could do was to go and see for herself if they were really 
and truly in their beds. 

Slipping on her warm white dressing-gown she set off 
on her journey across the house; and great was her 
satisfaction as she softly opened the door of the little 
girls’ bedroom, to hear through the darkness a sound of 
regular breathing which announced that its rightful 
inhabitants were not only in possession but were sound 
asleep. 

Her mind was relieved, and she thought herself very 
foolish for her pains as she crossed the passage and 
looked also into the boys’ room. Two little beds 
gleamed white in the far corners, but the lights and 
shadows were so disposed that Nessa was doubtful for a 
moment whether they were occupied. She advanced to 
the side of one of them, and while she stood contem- 
plating Master Bobbo, whom she found safely enough 


54 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


tucked up in the bedclothes, a low “ Nessa, is that 
you ? ” came from the other corner of the room. 

She turned and saw Murtagh’s dark eyes fixed upon 
her. “Yes,” she replied, moving to his side of the 
room. “ I hope I did not wake you ? ” 

He looked at her for a moment without raising his 
head from the pillow ] then he said in the same low 
voice : “ We Ve got the money. Bobbo got it, and I 
can’t go to sleep, I don’t know what to do.” 

“ How did you get it.? ” asked Nessa, kneeling down 
on the floor beside the low bed in order to speak with- 
out waking Bobbo. “ What made Mr. Plunkett change 
his mind ? ” 

“ Mr. Plunkett didn’t change his mind ; Bobbo goi it 
the way Winnie said, while Mr. Plunkett was down at 
supper.” 

“ Do you mean he stole it.? ” asked Nessa in dismay. 

“Yes,” replied Murtagh. “At least I mean, you 
know, it isn’t stealing really. Bobbo and Rosie say 
they ’re quite certain it couldn’t be stealing because it ’s 
only our own money ; papa said we were to have it, and 
Winnie says she thinks so too.” Murtagh was evidently 
not quite convinced of the truth of his arguments, for he 
spoke in a persuasive tone of voice. 

“ Oh, Murtagh, I am so sorry you have done that ! ” 
said Nessa, greatly troubled. “ It is stealing.” 

“ It ’s our own money though,” said Murtagh. 
“ Papa said we were to have one half-sovereign from 
Mr. Plunkett, and this will be only one ; only Winnie 
and I thought we didn’t care about spending it now any 
more ; we thought we ’d like to bury it in the island or 
somewhere. Then we wouldn’t have submitted to him 

tyrannizing ; but nobody could say we ’d regularly 

You don’t think it couid be real stealing, do you ? ” he 
asked, breaking off the other sentence, as though he 
shrank from saying the ugly -sounding word. 

“Yes, I do,” said Nessa. “ But you will give it back, 
because, listen, Murtagh — ” 

“ There’s Winnie,” said Murtagh, who was lying with 
his face turned to the door. 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


155 


Nessa turned and saw a little barefooted white figure 
standing in the middle of the room. It was Winnie, 
who had overheard Nessa’s last words. 

“ It can’t be stealing,” she said, coming up to the 
bedside. “ I ’ve been thinking about it ever since we 
went to bed, and it ’s our own.” 

“ No,” replied Nessa, lifting up one side of her dress- 
ing-gown for the little shivering figure to creep under. 
“ It ’s not your own. You are mistaking. You are 
doing something that will not be honorable. Listen, I 
can explain it to you quite plainly. Two new shirts will 
cost about seven shillings and sixpence, so you gave 
seven and sixpence to Theresa. That is, you spent 
seven and sixpence, and now you have only half-a- 
crown. You have not got a whole half-sovereign; it 
would be just common stealing to take it. And then, 
another thing,” she continued warmly, “even if it was 
your own I don’t think it is honorable to creep into a 
person’s house to take something when his back is 
turned ; it would be better to lose twenty half-sovereigns. 
It does not matter if a gentleman loses his rights, but it 
does matter very much if he stoops to get them back by 
deceit.” 

This view was new to the children. They were too 
firmly entrenched in their own opinion to be convinced 
in a moment, but their rights began somehow to seem 
to them small things after all. They tried to reproduce 
the arguments with which they had convinced them- 
selves ; but reasons, excellent before, sounded weak and 
empty now, and after a faint attempt to defend them- 
selves they accepted Nessa’s view. 

“ Well, we ’ll give it back to him to-morrow morn- 
ing,” said Murtagh ' finally. “But if I live to be a 
hundred years old,” he added, “I shall always hate 
him. He ’s spoiled every bit of our pleasure ; it may 
be just, but he wouldn’t have done it if he hadn’t 
wanted to spite us for throwing the apples in the 
river.” 

“ Did you throw apples in the river ? ” asked Nessa« 


156 


CASTLE BLAIR, 


‘‘You see it is such a pity you are naughty. You vex 
Mr. Plunkett and he vexes you. Couldn’t you try to be 
good ? ” 

“ No,” said Murtagh, “ I can’t be good, because as 
soon as I do try he does something that makes us bad 
again, worse than ever.” 

“ There ’s one good thing,” remarked Winnie, pursu- 
ing her own train of thought. “ He ’ll know now that 
we could have had the money if we had chosen to keep 
it.” 

Nessa did not know what to say to them. She only 
gave a little sigh and said that she thought it was a 
great pity not to be friends with people. Then she 
said “Good night” to Murtagh, and under the shelter 
of her dressing-gown conveyed Winnie back to her little 
bed. 

Murtagh and Winnie apparently broke to the others 
early next morning the news of the intended restitu- 
tion, for when Nessa met them at the breakfast-table, 
Bobbo said to her good-humoredly, in a half-confiden- 
tial whisper : 

“All right; I don’t mind; I only said he shouldn’t 
keep it, so I just took it to show him he shouldn’t ; this 
way will do just as well.” 

Rosie was the one who disapproved most highly, for 
she very much disliked the prospect of giving up their 
delightful birthday-plan. Her anger was all directed 
against Mr. Plunkett. Since Nessa said it would be real 
stealing to keep the half-sovereign, she was willing that 
it should be given back. She had taken a great fancy 
to Nessa, and was anxious to stand well in her esteem. 
But as for Mr. Plunkett, no words could be bad 
enough for him, she thought. It was all humbug and 
nonsense about it being just; he didn’t care a bit 
whether it was just or not. He was doing it to spite 
them and nothing else. So Rosie said to Mrs. Done- 
gan, as the children dawdled through the kitchen after 
breakfast : 

“ And how can we manage about the feast ? ” she 


CASTLE BLAIB. 


157 


lamented. “ It ’s so dreadful to ask people to come, and 
then tell them they mustn’t because we haven’t got any 
money.” 

“ ’Deed if Mr. Plunkett thinks I ’m going to stand by 
quiet and see such a slight put on Mr. Launcelot’s 
children he ’s mighty mistaken,” returned Donnie, her 
.ndignation flaming out all anew. “ Never you fear, 
honeys, but ye shall have a feast right enough, and a 
better one than ever came out of a confectioner’s shop, 
1 ’ll warrant. If that ’s all ye were going to spend your 
money on ye shall have ye’re money’s worth. ’Deed, 
for the matter o’ that, it was Miss Nessa herself came 
to the kitchen and settled it wid me yesterday. And 
as for Mr. Plunkett, I don’t know where his heart is at 
all or if he has one, to see yez exposed like that before 
a parcel of ignorant gossoons that would know no better 
than to laugh at ye.” 

“Oh, Donnie!” exclaimed the children in delight, 
“ do you mean you ’ll give us the things we ’ll want for 
them to eat ? ” 

“Just settle amongst yourselves what yez want, and 
let me know by dinner time. I ’ll hurry through with 
my work this morning, and all ye need trouble your- 
selves is to bring the cart round to-morrow to the 
kitchen-door.” 

“ You darling old Honey-donnie ! Won’t it be a sell 
for Mr. Plunkett ? ” exclaimed Bobbo, while Murtagh’s 
face lit up joyously, and the little girls began to arrange 
what they would want. 

“ Apple-pie and custards I vote for ! ” exclaimed Mur- 
tagh, breaking in upon their discussion ; “ only let ’s 
look sharp about arranging, because Nessa has sent to 
ask Mr. Plunkett to come to the drawing-room.” 

“Ye won’t let on a word to Mr. Plunkett,” said 
Donnie, who in her secret heart was as much afraid of 
him as anybody. “ The hen that lays the eggs is the 
best to hatch them.” 

“You needn’t be afraid. We’re not likely to have 
much conversation with him,” returned Murtagh with a 


158 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


scornful intonation. “ But did Nessa really think about 
that yesterday ? ” 

“ She did so,” replied Donnie. “ She came in there 
at the door, and I was whipping the cream here by the 
table, and ‘ Donnie,’ says she with her sweet-looking 
way, ‘ the poor children have got into a great scrape ; ’ 
and then she told me all about it, and we put our heads 
together. And if two women can’t circumvent Mr. 
Plunkett,” added Donnie laughing, “good Lord! he’s 
sharper than I take him for ! ” 

“ How awfully jolly of her ! ” exclaimed Murtagh ; 
“ come along off to the drawing-room, and let ’s thank 
her before old Plunkett arrives.” 

“ Oh, ay ! ” said Donnie, “ that ’s it, and never a word 
o’ thanks for me that ’ll have all the bother ! ” 

But the children were already rushing off to the 
drawing-room, and paid not the smallest attention to 
her complaint. 

They were in full flow of enthusiastic thanks and 
merry plan-making when Mr. Plunkett’s step was heard 
crossing the hall. 

“Whisht!” cried Murtagh. “Here comes the man- 
eater! where’s his pill.?” Bobbo exploded with laugh- 
ter, and Murtagh desperately hunting in all his pockets 
had but just time to find the half-sovereign before Mr. 
Plunkett entered the room. Nessa feared for a moment 
that the children were going to turn the whole affair 
into a joke, but at sight of Mr. Plunkett every sign of 
laughter vanished from their faces. 

Mr. Plunkett turned to Nessa and inquired politely 
what she wished to speak to him about. 

“It is Murtagh who wishes to speak to you,” she 
replied, glancing toward Murtagh to see whether he 
wished her to explain further. But Murtagh, without 
any apparent bashfulness, advanced and said with a 
grave dignity of manner that astonished Nessa: 

“ I wanted to give you back this. We took it yester- 
day because we thought you had no right to keep it 
from us ; but now we have been thinking, and you arc 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


159 


just, though you needn’t have done it.” As he spoke 
he handed the half-sovereign to Mr. Plunkett, and then, 
determined to say nothing more on the subject, he 
turned away and left the room. 

“ I do not understand,” said Mr. Plunkett, looking 
at the coin lying in the palm of his hand. “ I never 
heard of such a thing! What does the boy mean? 
Did he steal it ? ” 

“ No,” said Bobbo, turning very red and stammering, 
for he never could help feeling a little frightened when 
he was actually in Mr. Plunkett’s presence ; “ I took it 
because it was Murtagh’s own, and it ’s a horrid shame 
the way you plague him 1 ” 

“Bobbo,” said Nessa reproachfully, “you are not 
polite ! ” 

“Polite! Miss Blair,” said Mr. Plunkett, “neither 
he nor his brother ever are polite. But this,” he 
continued, looking down again at the half-sovereign, 
“ this is more than I expected even from them ! I did 
think they would have hesitated before taking money 
that does not belong to them. Since it is not so, why I 
shall for the future be careful to lock up my purse. 
They are certainly charming young gentlemen ! ” 

The scornful accentuation of the last word flushed 
the children’s cheeks with anger, but for once they 
controlled themselves, and without speaking went out 
to rejoin Murtagh. 

“ Do not be too hard on them,” pleaded Nessa, turn- 
ing to Mr. Plunkett as the door closed behind them. 
“They thought they had a right to take it. You see 
how they give it back to you now.” 

“ I do not pretend to be acquainted with their thoughts. 
Miss Blair, but in my eyes nothing can excuse a down- 
right theft,” replied Mr. Plunkett, and he bowed and 
left the room. 

“ Ah ! ” sighed Murtagh on the terrace as the children, 
joining him, repeated Mr. Plunkett’s every word and 
gesture. “ It is too bad the way every plan we have 
gets spoilt; I did think this one was going to be all 
right ! ” 


i6o 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


“Well, you know there’s one thing,” said Winnie, 
“ it has been all right really. About the shirts was our 
last plan; and we gave back the money when we 
thought that part wasn’t right.” 

“ Yes ; but it ’s all the same, the way things get mixed 
up. You do one little thing, and then that makes you 
have to do a lot more. First we took Theresa, that 
made us want the money.; then w'anting the money made 
us give Theresa the shirts to make her happy. 'Then 
giving her the shirts made old Plunkett take our money, 
and that made us take his, and that made us all in a 
rage, and I don’t care about the ceremony or anything 
now.” 

“ Never mind, Myrrh,” exclaimed Winnie. “ It ’s no 
good making ourselves miserable now. Put it out of 
your head. That ’s what I do. I always keep some 
awfully jolly thing in my mind for thinking about, and 
then when I have any troubles I think of it instead. 
My thing now is what the followers will look like when 
they see the feast spread out. Can’t you imagine? — 
their eyes will get so big, and their faces will get red all 
over.” 

“Oh, yes,” said Murtagh, “and we must lay it out 
on the other side of the courtyard wall, so that they 
mayn’t see it at first, because they will be so surprised.” 

And then forgetting their anger the children talked 
merrily on, till twelve o’clock ringing out from the 
stables reminded them that they were hungry. 

With the half-crown that remained from Murtagh’s 
money they bought that afternoon the green ribbon 
which they considered indispensable to the proper cele- 
bration of the ceremony; and having employed every 
spare minute of the day in making evergreen wreaths, 
they had a last grand singing practice on the island, 
and went to bed early, so as to make the morrow come 
quicker. 


CASTLE BLAITt, 


l6l 


CHAPTER XVI. 

T SAY, Winnie,” called Murtagh dolefully at the 

JL door of the little girls’ bed-room next morning, 
“ it ’s an awfully bad day, quite dull and dark, and 
preciously cold, too. What is to be done ? ” 

“Oh, Myrrh, what a pity!” returned Winnie, getting 
out of bed and rubbing her sleepy eyes. “ Yes,” she 
continued, coming into the passage and climbing on to 
the high window-sill to look out, “ so it is ; quite cloudy- 
looking all over the sky. Well, we had better not stand 
here in our night-gowns. Let us get dressed quickly ; 
perhaps it will look better out of doors. My teeth are 
chattering.” With a little shiver she vanished into her 
bed-room, but putting her head out again to exclaim : 
“ Many happy returns of the day I Mind, I was first 1 ” 
and the next minute an “ Ugh ! How cold it is ! ” ac- 
companied by a sound of vigorous splashing, announced 
that she was in her bath. 

In another quarter of an hour all four children were 
coming down the stairs, their footsteps echoing through 
the stillness of the house in a ghostly fashion that har- 
monized with the lingering darkness. 

“ What a lazy pig that Peggy is 1 ” exclaimed Mur- 
tagh, as he opened the door of the school-room and 
found the shutters still closed. “ Not a single one of 
the down-stair windows open yet, and no fire. Let us 
go and warm ourselves in the kitchen.” 

“I wonder what time it is,” said Rosie, with a yawn. 
It was too dark to see the clock as they crossed the hall, 
but in the kitchen they found the smoldering embers of 
yesterday’s fire, and with the aid of a log of wood and 
the bellows they soon had a roaring blaze. Then Rosie 

II 


i 62 


CASTLE BLAIB, 


spied the coffee-pot with some remains of coffee ; and 
Bobbo, who had been to the servants’ hall to see if Don- 
nie were there, returned without Donnie, but with a loaf 
of bread and some butter. Winnie climbed on the 
dresser and peeped into jugs , and bowls till she found 
milk and sugar, and then they all sat round the fire and 
made toast and sipped hot coffee till they felt thoroughly 
warm and comfortable. 

“ There,” said Winnie, putting her last mouthful into 
her mouth. “ Now let us go out and get our wreaths 
packed in the cart ready for starting. We ’ve got a 
tremendous lot to do.” 

“All right,” said Bobbo. “I feel very jolly now; 
only, do you know, when first I got up I did feel so queer 
and sickish. I thought I was going to be ill.” 

“So did I,” replied Winnie. “How funny! I wonder 
what it was ! Did you feel anything queer, Rosie ? ” 

But Rosie had laid her head down on a log of wood 
and was sound asleep. 

“I say, Rosie! Wake up; what in the world are you 
going to sleep for? We must set to work if we want to 
be ready in time,” exclaimed Murtagh, and with a push 
and a little shake Rosie was wakened up again. 

Crossing the kitchen the children unbarred the door 
and went out into the yard. The cold gray light was 
barely sufficient to enable them to see their way, and the 
air was very keen. 

Murtagh sniffing it said : “ I suppose it’s pretty early. 
How nice and fresh everything always smells at this 
time of the day.” But the others seemed to think it 
more fresh than nice, and shivered as they went along. 

There was no one in the haggart where the cart-shed 
was, so they took out the cart and loaded it with their 
evergreen wreaths and sheaves of hollyhocks. The 
wreaths had been soaking in a sheltered little harbor of 
the river all night, and now, fresh and glistening, they 
looked so pretty that though the cart was almost full the 
children unanimously decided to make some more. 

“ Only let us do it indoors,” said Rosie, “ I am dread- 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


163 


fully cold.” So with many laments over the dreary 
weather, they carried bundles of flowers and evergreens 
into the kitchen. Donnie was not there, the fire was 
blazing up splendidly as when they left it, and they sat 
themselves down upon the hearth to work in the pleasant 
warmth. At first the garlands got on fast, but soon 
Rosie’s head went down again on the log of wood, and 
the flowers dropped out of her hands. Then Bobbo 
thought he could work much more comfortably lying 
down ; presently his heavy eyelids drooped over his 
eyes, and though one hand kept tight hold of his wreath 
the other got somehow under his head for a pillow. 

“Never mind,” said Murtagh, “let them sleep; you 
and I must work double.” 

“ What ’s that striking ? ” asked Winnie as a stroke 
rang out from the hall clock. 

“One, two, three, four,” counted Murtagh. “Oh! 
we are in very good time ; still it ’s not too early, we 
have plenty to do.” 

But notwithstanding all there was to be done Winnie’s 
head began to droop, and she woke herself up with a 
start presently, only to see that Murtagh was curled up 
in a ball sound asleep. She made an effort to rouse 
herself thoroughly, and continued to tie pink and white 
hollyhocks in among the laurel leaves, proud and 
delighted to be the only one awake. Soon, however, 
one of the hollyhock blossoms began to grow larger and 
larger till it turned into a fairy palace built of rainbows 
and precious stones, where extraordinary things began 
to happen; and the end of it all was that when Mrs. 
Donegan came down at six o’clock she found four 
children sound asleep among the evergreens. 

“Bless their dear little hearts !” she murmured, stand- 
ing and looking down at them. “ May your sleep always 
be as light-hearted, ye little innocent lambs ! ” And then 
for fear they might be disturbed she would not let the 
maids into the kitchen, but moved about on tiptoe doing 
herself whatever was to be done. 

Theresa came a great many times to the back door to 


CASTLE BLAIB. 


164 


know if the children were coming, but Mrs. Donegan 
told her to go about her business, she wasn’t going to 
have them awakened ; and not till eight o’clock did they 
stir. 

Murtagh woke first ; he sat up and rubbed his eyes. 
The kitchen was an airy south room, and the bright 
morning sun was pouring in at the big windows. At 
first he could not understand how he came down there 
but then, recollecting, he sprang to his feet with a joyous 
bound, exclaiming: 

“ Wake up ! Hurrah ! it ’s a glorious day after all ! ” 

“ How jolly ! ” returned Winnie, waking at once but 
dazzled with the glare of light. 

“ Why,” said Bobbo, sitting up in his turn and rubbing 
his eyes, “ however did it get so sunny ? ” 

“ The sun has been lighting the lamps while you were 
asleep. Master Bobbo, honey,” replied Donnie. 

“But I ’ve only just been asleep a minute; I just shut 
my eyes because — ” The others began to laugh ; but 
Bobbo insisted, and was getting into hot argument, 
when the ringing of the breakfast bell announced that 
any how it was eight o’clock now. 

“Never mind, Bobbo, you’ve only been asleep two 
minutes if you like ! ” exclaimed Murtagh racing off. 
“ I feel a great deal too jolly to care twopence ; ” and the 
next minute they were all entering the dining-room ; 
where, finding it empty, Murtagh entertained them with 
an impromptu farce, entitled — “The benefits of early 
rising.” 

They did not dawdle long over breakfast that day, 
but were soon out on their way to the haggart. The 
followers were eagerly expecting them, and they were 
received with a shout of welcome. 

“ Long life to you. Master Murtagh ! ” burst from 
about twenty lusty throats. “ May ye live to see many 
another birthday, and each one be happier than the 
last ! ” The last part of the speech came from Pat 
O’Toole. He was a black-haired, blue-eyed boy, older 
than Murtagh by some three or four years. But perhaps 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


165 


by reason of his small stature — perhaps because of a 
certain capacity for admiration which he possessed, he 
always seemed to the children younger than Murtagh, 
and far from attempting to lea^ he was one of their 
most devoted servitors. 

“ Thank you ! ” returned Murtagh heartily, remember- 
ing for the first time that he was the hero of the day. 
“ But I don’t think any birthday could be happier than 
this. Did you ever see such a glorious day.? ” 

“ It ’s not likely the sun ’d be behindhand in wishin’ 
you good luck,” returned Pat O’Toole. 

But time was too precious to be wasted in compli- 
ments. 

“ We ’re all here, aren’t we .? ” said Murtagh. “ So 
now let us get the horse into the cart and be off; oh 
Gollyloo, to think it ’s gome at last ! ” 

Very soon the horse was harnessed to the cart. Pat 
Molony, who generally drove it, informed them that he 
was under orders to bring down a lot of fresh-cut grass 
from a certain meadow; but he was very good-natured, 
and when he saw it already loaded with flowers, and 
was- told that they couldn’t get on at all without it, he 
said he supposed they must have it, and he would man- 
age somehow to make excuses to Bland. 

“ Now then,” said Murtagh. “In you get as many as 
will fit without squashing the evergreens, and let us be 
off. Gee up, Tommie. Those who can’t get in must 
run behind.” And with a crack of the whip and a shake 
of the reins they started. 

Tommie was a good horse, accustomed to heavy loads, 
so though the ground was rough the}^ jogged away at a 
very fair pace. And "as for there being no springs to the 
cart, who minded that .? The sun was shining over the 
fields, and, perched as they were for the most part on 
the high sides of the cart, the children could see for 
miles around. 

Golden stubble, dark hedges crossing and recrossing 
each other, patches of nut-trees here and there, low 
stone walls overgrown with moss and fern, and tufts of 


66 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


foxglove; all were equally delightful to them. They 
passed through picturesque tumbledown villages, where 
ragged babies were playing among the pigs and donkeys 
on the strip of grass by the roadside ; and people came 
opt of the cabins and wished them good luck, and gave 
them many a “ God bless ye.” 

Not v«ry many of the children could fit into the cart 
because of the flowers; but they perched upon the 
shafts, upon the plank that served for box-seat, upon the 
sides, where at the corners the position was tenable; 
and those who could not get a seat at all ran alongside. 
They jumped up and down by turns, so that none were 
tired ; and though the feet of the runners were bare and 
dusty their faces were as happy as child-faces can be. 
Altogether it was a bright cavalcade, that red and blue 
painted cart full of children, with the strong brown horse 
trotting along, and the ragged happy escort panting, 
laughing, and turning somersaults around. 

Jokes, laughter, cheers, and nonsense abounded. Be- 
fore they had gone far Winnie and Rosie had both been 
presented with bouquets of wild flowers; dirty hands 
had robbed the hedges of rich clusters of blackberries, 
dirty lips were smeared with the crimson juice. But no 
king ever felt more proud of his dominion than Murtagh 
of his tribe ; and truly if loving devotion is to be gloried 
in, Murtagh was right. 

The air was exhilarating, and as they went higher they 
got among the heathery tops of the hills. Then looking 
back they could see the sea eight or nine miles off, with 
a silver mist upon it that gleamed freshly in the morning 
sun. 

“ Look back, Winnie ! Look back now ! ” cried Mur- 
tagh, as they reached a hill-top from which the view was 
specially clear. “ Did you ever ^see anything so lovely ? 
See all this purple and gold at our feet, and the spark- 
ling silver away there.” 

“ Yes,” said Winnie, turning round and taking a long 
look. “And to think,” she added, with a little sigh, 
“ that papa and mamma are really and truly away over 
there if only we could see far enough.” 


CASTLE liLAIli. 


167 


“Don’t you feel as if you smelt the sea?” said Miir- 
tagh, throwing his head back to draw in the air better. 

“Yes, and the heather,” said Winnie, “doesn’t it get 
into you and make you feel free ? Oh, wouldn’t it be 
glorious,” she continued, her eyes sparkling. and her face 
lighting up with animation, “if we could live up here 
really with our tribe, and race over the mountains all 
day, and live on blackberries, and fraughans, and nuts ? 
To be perfectly free ! Oh, Murtagh, just think what a 
life it would be ! We ’d have ponies, and ride about for 
weeks at a time among the hills, and we ’d have a secret 
hiding-place, and be like good fairies to all the villages 
round. If any one was in trouble we would carry them 
off and hide them and feed them till the trouble was 
over, and some day when we got older we would rise and 
set Ireland free. Oh, I would like to be queen of a 
tribe, and I ’d lead them into battle, and shout ‘ For 
Ireland and Liberty ! ’ ” 

At first no one had paid attention to what Winnie and 
Murtagh were saying, but as Winnie grew excited she 
spoke louder, and her last words were received with a 
general cheer. The children’s spirits were rising to such 
a pitch that they were glad of any excuse for making a 
noise. 

“And we’d follow you to the death, Miss Winnie,” 
cried Pat O’Toole. 

“That would we,” exclaimed the others enthusiasti- 
cally. But at this moment their excitement was turned 
into another channel by an exclamation of “ Hurrah, 
there ’s our tower ! ” which came from Bobbo, who was 
sitting on the shaft driving. 

“ Our tower ” was a very old gray ruin of which 
scarcely anything remained. There was an enormously 
thick wall with an archway in it, and a worn flight of 
steps leading up through the thickness of the wall to a 
little room above the archway; and that, with the crum- 
bling remains of walls which had once enclosed court- 
yards, on either side of the archway, formed the whole 
tower. 


i68 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


“ Hurrah ! ” echoed the others as the cart stopped ax 
the bottom of the slope. “ Now then, out with us and 
to work as fast as we can.” 

“You dear, dear old mountains, how I do love you ! ” 
cried Winnie, throwing herself flat upon the heather, 
whilst the others were descending from the cart. In 
another minute the cart was unyoked. Tommie was 
tethered to a tree, and the children, with their arms full 
of evergreens, swarmed up the slope and into the tower. 

One wild scamper over the heather, a few rolls down 
the tower slope into the mossy ditch that divided it from 
the road, a thorough inspection of the tower to see that 
all was right, and then they set to work in earnest. 

Many hands make light work, and soon the old gray 
walls began to smile under the garlands of pink, and 
white, and green, with which the children decorated 
them. Rosie was most useful. She had helped Cousin 
Jane last Christmas to decorate the parish church, and 
she had besides a natural gift for such work. She was 
a capital manager, and anything approaching to a party 
made her so happy that she was sure to be in the best of 
humors. 

No one could be more charming than Rosie when she 
tried. She knew by instinct how to please everybody 
and keep everybody busy. She never told a small child 
to hang a wreath on a place too high for him to reach. 
She never wasted the height of tall children by letting 
them decorate the lower walls. She showed every one 
how to do things her way, but somehow managed with 
her pretty thanks to make them feel as though they had 
done entirely according to their own ideas. She asked 
every one’s opinion, and though she took nobody’s 
unless it was just the same as her own, each was left 
with a pleasant impression that their plan was certainly 
the nicest. 

It was impossible that any one should be cross under 
the influence of such a sunny good temper, and the work 
went on merrily until the last garland was arranged 
upon the throne they had erected in the centre of the 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


169 


courtyard. Then Murtagh drew Rosie aside to inquire 
if she didn’t think it was time now “ to go back to fetch 
Nessa and the feastables.” Rosie thought it was. 
Everything was ready except the feast, and so with many 
rejoicings over this most delightful of birthdays, they 
got into the cart again and rattled home to fetch Nessa. 
The followers of course stayed behind, and with a light 
load going down-hill Tommie would take less than no 
time to get back. Then they would see what Donnie 
had got for them, and after that there would be only the 
drive back again between them and the ceremony. 

“ Three cheers ! ” cried Murtagh, tossing his hat into 
the air. “ I can hardly believe the time is really come. 
It seems too good to be true. I don’t know which I 
like best, the ceremony or the feast.” 

“ One ’s as good as the other, and they ’re both the 
most deliciousest plans that ever were invented,” said 
Winnie in ecstasy. “ And such a glorious day as we ’ve 
got. Hurrah for the sun ! Hurrah for the mountains ! 
, and hurrah for being happy and free ! ” 

“And just think of that old brute, Mr. Plunkett, want- 
ing to prevent us having it,” chimed in Bobbo. “What 
harm does it do him I ’d like to know ? ” 

Murtagh’s face clouded suddenly, and he muttered 
something between his teeth. But Rosie hated to think 
of disagreeable subjects when she was happy, so she 
said brightly: “ Doesn’t the tower look lovely ? I never 
thought we should be able to make it so nice.” The 
conversation went back to its happy strain, and Mr. 
Plunkett was forgotten. 

They drove straight to the kitchen-door and entered, 
calling out: “ Here we are, Donnie; out with the good- 
ies, and let us be off again.” 

The goodies, as they called them, were out already; 
and indeed Donnie had fulfilled her promise of giving 
them enough and to spare. Luckily for them she had 
more substantial notions than Murtagh of children’s 
appetites, and in addition to the apple-pie and custards 
there were meat-pies and puddings, cakes, and tarts, and 


I/O 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


everything else that children were likely to enjoy. Don- 
nie herself was bending over a saucepan at the fire, but 
she did not look round or make any answer to the 
children’s salutation. 

“ Donnie, you are a brick ! ” exclaimed Winnie and 
Murtagh simultaneously, at sight of the well-covered 
kitchen-table. 

“ But how in the world are we going to get all those 
things packed to take with us ? ” added Murtagh. “ It 
would be an awful pity to spoil them after you ’ve made 
them look so nice.” 

“ If you can’t pack ’em ye ’d better leave them,” 
returned Donnie crossly. “ But whatever ye ’re going to 
do ye ’d better make haste and be out o’ this. I can’t be 
having the place overrun with children from mornin’ to 
night.” 

“Haillol Below! What’s the matter?” inquired 
Bobbo. 

“ Matter I Don’t be bothering me asking questions 
about everything. A body can’t so much as sneeze but 
ye ’ll be asking why she did it. Here, put them in 
there,” she added, coming over to the table and pulling 
out from under it a large white wicker hamper. 

The children knew better than to say much to Donnie 
when she was in one of her present moods, so Rosie and 
Winnie began in silence to put some of the dishes into 
the hamper. However, they had not gone far in their 
packing before Mrs. Donegan burst out again : 

“ My good Lord, Miss Rosie ! where do you suppose 
that pie-crust ’ll be by the time you get up the mountains 
if you go putting the things one on top of another in 
that fashion ? ^ Here, get out o’ this wid yez 1 I ’d rather 
do it myself.” And down she went on her knees beside 
the hamper. 

“Well, I don’t know anything about packing. How 
could I ? ” replied Rosie rather aggrieved. But Winnie 
was in too high spirits to stay quiet long. Suddenly 
snatching off Donnie’s cap she transferred it to her own 
head, and began with a broad imitation of Donnie’s 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


I7I 


brogue to scold the children all round and tell them to 
“get out o’ this.” 

“Give me back my cap this minute, Miss Winnie! 
How dare ye behave in such a way?” exclaimed Mrs. 
Donegan. But Winnie detected a twinkle in her eye that 
showed she was near laughing, and returned audaciously : 

“Well, you just stop being so grumpy, and tell us 
/ what’s the matter. Here you are 1 ” handing her back 
her cap. “ Cover up your poor old head, and tell us 
now, what made you turn so sour ? ” 

“Sour indeed! Ye’d be sour enough yerself too if 
you were worrited and bodiered the way I am with 
people writing and sayin’ ‘ We ’ll be with you to-night,’ 
as if the place was an hotel and a body' hadn’t enough 
to do without gettin’ dinners and beds ready for all the 
rabble o’ maids and fallalls they ’ll be bringing along 
with ’em. Why can’t they give proper notice ? ” 

“Cousin Jane!” exclaimed the children in voices of 
consternation. “ It can’t be any one else, because you 
always get in this kind of a temper when she ’s coming.” 

“Yes; it is your cousin Jane, and poor little Master 
Frankie, and Miss Emma, and the Lord knows how 
many ladies’ maids, and governesses, and sich like after 
them. And they can’t give a word of notice; but 
they’re driven across through the mountains for Miss 
Emma and the governess to be sketching; and they’ll 
be with us to-night. ’Deed they might ha’ stopped 
without us .and there ’d ha’ been no tears spilled.” 

“Oh, but Frankie !” cried Winnie in delight. “ How 
jolly ! Why yes, of course, Nessa told us ever so long 
ago that they were coming.” 

“Poor little Master Frankie ! He’s the only one o’ 
the lot that ’s worth burying,” replied Donnie, softening 
a little. 

“ He ’ll be here to-night, did you say ? ” said Winnie. 
“W’hat a pity he didn’t come yesterday. He would 
have enjoyed seeing the ceremony. Wouldn’t he, 
Myrrh ? ” 

“Yes/’ said Murtagh. “And isn’t it a pity he can’t 


172 


CASTLE BLaIE. 


ever come alone? As for the others — ’’ An expres- 
sive shake of the head finished his sentence. 

A few more hasty questions as to how and when the 
new comers were to arrive, and then the children’s 
minds returned to the matter in hand. 

'“Never mind them now,” cried Rosie; “let us get 
Nessa and Ellie, and be off.” 

“ You are a jolly old Donnie ! ” said Murtagh ; “ and 
we ’re having such fun ! Won’t they all open their eyes 
just when they see what we ’ve got for them ! ” 

“ It ’s lucky you ’ve got the things, I can tell you, for 
of course Mr. Plunkett must walk in to tell me about 
this nice little treat of Mrs. William coming, and he 
couldn’t choose any minute of the day but just when 
I ’d got them all laid out here on the table. However, 
ye ’ve got ’em now, so be off with you,” she added 
laughing. “ Here, Peggy, give me a hand with the 
hampers.” 

The hampers we^e heavy, but with assistance from 
Peggy and the children they were got safely into the 
cart. A chair was put in for Nessa to sit upon, then 
the cart was taken round in state to the hall door. 
Nessa and Ellie were handed in, and away Tommie 
started once more. 

Nessa had not yet been among the hills, so she 
enjoyed the drive immensely, laughing like a child at 
the queer equipage and the jolts that threatened at 
every instant to upset both her and her chair. She was 
not prepared either for a sight of the sea, and Murtagh 
delighted in her admiration of it. As they drew nearer 
to the last turn in the road which hid the tower from 
their sight, the children’s excitement became almost 
uncontrollable. They had invented an ingenious reason 
for leaving Nessa at a pretty little spot they knew of, 
just out of sight of the tower, in order that all might 
burst upon her as a surprise when they led her up to be 
crowned ; but when they reached the place all their 
reasons went out of their heads, and they landed her 
and her chair with no further explanation than an impe- 


CASTLE BLAITt. 


173 


rious command to “ stay here till we come, and be sure 
not to stir.” 

Nessa, who had long ago guessed that some wonder- 
ful mystery was on foot, merrily consented to stay just 
so long as it would take to make into bouquets all the 
flowers she could reach without going round the corner. 
“After that,” she said, “if you keep me waiting I shall 
come and peep.” 

“ No, no ! Whatever you do you mustn’t peep ! ” 
said the children. “ We ’ll be as quick as ever we can.” 
And with happy, excited faces they ran forward, patient 
Tommie trotting after them. 


CHAPTER XVir. 

A t the tower the followers were eagerly expecting 
the return of their little chiefs. While the chil- 
dren had been away they had rambled about under Pat 
O’Toole’s direction, and had each brought a beautiful 
branch of mountain-ash, loaded with scarlet berries, to 
hold in their hands, and had gathered bunches of white 
heather. They had added, too, to the decorations by 
fixing branches of mountain-ash wherever one of the 
festoons was looped, and they were most anxious to 
know whether Rosie would approve their taste. She 
did heartily, and the broad, good-humored faces 
beamed with delight at her thanks. 

Plenty of hands were ready to carry the hampers from’ 
the cart to the other side of the archway, but every one 
was too much excited just now about the ceremony to 
be able to think of anything else. 

A white table-cloth was hastily thrown over the ham- 
pers, and the followers were told to wash their feet and 
hurry on their clean pinafores, which latter had been 
wisely put on one side in the early part of the day. 


174 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


Then Rosie said, with the branches in their hands they 
would all look “ beautifully alike.” But Elbe was to be 
the messenger who was to summon Nessa, and her 
shabby little dark green frock was far from suitable to 
such an occasion. Rosie looked at her in despair for a 
moment, but only for a moment. 

“Quick, quick, Winnie, the needles and thread,” 
she said ; and then, while the followers assumed their 
primitive uniform, she and Winnie tacked a garland of 
vhite heather round the hem of the little frock, looped 
it up shepherdess fashion over the short scarlet linsey 
petticoat, and placed bunches of white heather on the 
breast and shoulders with such effect that when Mur- 
tagh crowned the child’s golden head with a wreath of 
the same white flowers, Winnie cried in delight : “ Oh, 
Kllie, you do look like a little fairy, so you do.” 

“All but the boots and stockings,” returned Murtagh, 
surveying her with more critical eyes. 

“Tate ’em off,” said Elbe, eagerly holding up one 
foot. “ Ellie want to be a fairy.” 

“ The grass ’ll prick,” said Winnie. But Ellie, who 
had stood like a little statue while they decorated her 
dress, replied : “ Me don’t mind. Ellie be a fairy then, 
and look so pretty.” 

So they pulled off the clumsy boots, and she danced 
gleefully over the grass, her golden curls falling over 
her dimpled shoulders, her little white feet and legs 
twinkling in the sunlight. 

“ ’Deed it ’s like an angel right down from heaven 
she is ! ” exclaimed more than one of the followers, 
while Rose, with all the anxiety of a manager, said : 
“Take care, Ellie; don’t shake off your wreath. Now 
you ’re to come with us down to there, you see where 

Nessa is behind the rock, and you’re to tell her 

What shall we say, Murtagh ? ” 

“Tell her to come and be one of us,” replied Mur- 
tagh grandiloquently, seating himself upon the throne 
as he spoke, and taking up his violin. 

“ You lead Ellie down, Rosie. All you followers fol- 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


175 


low, and as soon as Miss Nessa comes round the rock, 
form into two lines for her to pass through, and scatter 
your flowers. No\r begin to sing.” 

He touched his violin, Winnie’s clear voice rose 
first, then all the others joined in, and the music swelled 
in harmony as the little procession moved down the 
slope. 

Notwithstanding the sunlight, the flowers, and the 
gay dresses of the children, there was a something 
almost solemn in their voices ; and little Ellie looked 
up into Rosie’s face with wide-open wondering eyes, as 
though not at all sure what all this meant. 

Now go,” said Rosie, loosing the child’s hand as 
the singing began gently to die away. 

With flushed cheeks and the same wondering look 
still in her eyes Ellie sprang round the rock, and holding 
out her hand to Nessa she cried earnestly: 

“Oor to turn and be a fairy.” Then quivering all 
over with excitement, she added in a tone meant to be 
reassuring: “Elbe’s not frightened. It doesn’ hurt.” 

“ No, dear,” replied Nessa, taking hold of the little 
hot hand and keeping it firmly in her own cool fingers. 
“Only fun for Nessa and Ellie together.” 

“ Yes, on/y fun,” said Ellie looking up at Nessa with 
a sigh of relief. But she clung very closely to Nessa’s 
hand as they came out from behind the rock and were 
received with a cheer ending in a burst of music. 

“How very, very pretty!” exclaimed Nessa, taking 
in the whole scene- at a glance and standing still in 
admiration. 

Almost opposite to them rose the grassy slope with 
the irregular double file of followers winding down its 
side. Through their ranks Nessa could see Murtagh 
sitting, playing his violin on the rough throne they had 
made. Behind rose the gray ruin wreathed in flowers, 
and above and beyond all, clear blue sky flecked with 
sunny clouds spread over the purple hill-tops as far as 
the eye could reach. 

“ Turn,” said Ellie, pulling her hand ; and through 


76 


CASTLE BLAIR, 


the singing children Nessa walked slowly towards the 
throne. But now little Ellie was not the only one who 
felt solemnity underlying the play. The children as 
they sang could not have told how much they were in 
earnest; their hearts were beating fast, they scarcely 
knew why, and there was a tone in their voices that 
filled Nessa with emotion as she passed between them. 
No one had intended the ceremony to be solemn ; it 
became so without their will. 

When Nessa was quite close the music ceased. Mur- 
tagh descended from his seat, and with the followers 
pressing eagerly round to see, Nessa was with due form 
received into the tribe, and the green ribbon was tied 
about her arm. Then came the moment for her to 
promise to hate the “ Agents.” It was the interesting 
point, the crisis as it were of the whole ceremony ; and 
there was an almost breathless silence while Murtagh, 
his voice shaking a little with excitement, said to her : 

Will you promise faithfully to hate the ‘ Agents,’ and 
to defend your tribe against them ? ” 

There was something so curious in this request, made 
as it was in the midst of those intensely eager faces, 
that Nessa felt not the slightest inclination to laugh. 
She looked round the listening circle with a sort of 
troubled astonishment, and then turning to Murtagh she 
answered quite gravely : 

“ No. I do not like hating.” 

A burst of expressive lament escaped from the crowd. 
Murtagh looked puzzled and disappointed. He could 
not make up his mind. 

“ What shall we do ? ” he asked at length, turning to 
the followers. 

“ Make her princess over us anyhow, Mr. Murtagh. 
It can’t be helped,” cried Pat O’Toole magnanimously, 
and the other followers by their acclamations seconded 
his request. 

“Yes, do! yes, do!” cried Winnie, Bobbo, and 
Rosie. 

Murtagh took the wreath of shamrocks and would 


CASTLE BLAin. 


177 


have placed it on Nessa’s head ; but she drew back and 
said : “ No ; I do not think I can be your princess.” 

Murtagh paused with the wreath in his hands too 
much astonished to speak. Consternation became 
visible in every face j their ceremony was taking a most 
unexpected turn. 

“ Have you promised what you wanted me to prom- 
ise ? ” asked Nessa. 

“ That we have ; sworn it ! ” cried the children 
eagerly, regaining their voices. 

“That was whatd thought,” said Nessa, beginning to 
unfasten the ribbon from her arm. “ That is why I 
cannot be one of your tribe.” 

“ Oh, stop a minute ! stop a minute ! ” cried Rosie 
and the children, while Murtagh asked : “ What do you 
want us to do ? ” 

“ I want you to undo the promise you' have made, 
and to try never to hate anyone,” said Nessa resolutely, 
her cheeks flushing a little,. and her eyes dark and 
bright. “ Do you not feel wicked when you hate ? ” 

There was a pause. This was very different from 
what they had intended, but for the moment Nessa had 
the little crowd in her power. Pat O’Toole was the first 
to speak. 

“ ’Deed and she ’s right,” he exclaimed. “ When my 
paddy’s up it’s little I care what I do.” 

“ Faix, and it ’s little good we get by hating them,” 
remarked another of the elder followers. 

But to Murtagh himself the question was a more per- 
sonal one. He was thinking deeply, and seemed at 
first quite undecided. Then, his whole countenance 
opening out into a sunny smile, he turned to Nessa and 
said, “ 1 ’ll try.” 

That was all that was needed. 

“ So will I,” said Winnie ; and more or less earnestly 
the promise was echoed by the crowd. 

“ Then I will be your princess if you will have me,” 
said Nessa. “ And shall I give you a device^ — a motto 
for the tribe ? ” she added, hesitating. 

12 


178 


CASTLE BLAin. 


“Yes, yes,” cried Murtagh. “What is it?” 

“ ‘ Peace on earth, goodwill towards men.’ Will you 
have that ? ” 

She looked round with a gentle pleading in her eyes, 
and then taking off her hat she knelt down on the grass 
before Murtagh. 

“ God bless her ! God bless her ! ” cried the followers, 
and Murtagh’s face was white, and his hands trembling 
a little, as he laid the wreath upon her head. 

A chorus of cheers rose from the followers’ lusty 
throats, and in the midst of the echoing hurrahs Murtagh 
led her up the steps of the throne. The excitement of 
the children had been growing greater and greater from 
the moment that Ellie first led Nessa round the rock. 
During the ceremony they had been obliged to keep it 
down, but now it burst forth without restraint. 

They danced and shouted round the throne like mad 
creatures, and the more they danced the wilder they 
grew; each seemed to try and outrival the others in the 
noise. At last Murtagh, remembering his violin, struck 
the first notes of the “ Shan van Vaugh,” and every one 
found relief in spending upon that the force of their 
lungs. How they did sing ! Their voices rang through 
the mountain-rocks and were echoed back again. The 
excitement was infectious; even little Ellie, standing on 
the throne beside Nessa, sang diligently all the time the 
only words she knew: “Says de Shan van Vaugh; says 
de Shan van Vaugh;” and when with a last triumphant 
burst came the ending lines : 

“We’ll pluck the laurel tree, 

And we ’ll call it Liberty, 

For our country shall be free, 

Says the Shan van Vaugh” — 

Nessa clapped her hands and cried in delight : “ Oh, 
how pretty it is out of doors ! How pretty it all is ! ” 

Almost as she did so a strange voice exclaimed : 
“Well, children, are you holding a Fenian meeting?” 
The words were accompanied by a little laugh, but they 


CASTLE BLAIB. 


179 


had the effect of putting a sudden and complete stop to 
the children’s mirth. 

Nessa looked round, and standing by the low wall she 
perceived a lady, who at the moment was engaged in 
disentangling a floating gauze veil from among the bows 
and flowers that adorned her bonnet. By her side stood 
a fashionably-dressed girl of sixteen, whose face wore an 
expression of amused contempt far from attractive. She 
did not seem to be aware of the elder lady’s difficulties 
with the veil, and Nessa advanced at once to offer her 
assistance. 

“ Or have you quite given up civilized life,” continued 
the lady, with a series of little laughs, “ and resolved to 
live up here with your select circle of friends ? I thought 
you were to have some one to take care of you. How 
do you get on with the new cousin ; eh, Murtagh ? Oh, 
I ’m sure I beg your pardon,” she added, suddenly per- 
ceiving Nessa, and making up for her first oversight by 
a fixed and deliberate stare. 

The color deepened in Nessa’s cheeks as she bowed 
and asked whether she could not help to disengage the 
veil. But the new-comer continued none the less for 
that as she bent her head to Nessa’s ministrations : 

“ So you have a new playfellow, children. That must 
be very nice for you. You have good strong nerves I 
suppose, and don’t mind noise,” she added, addressing 
Nessa. “Well, you are quite right; it’s no good having 
delicate ways and ideas when you have to live with a big 
family. Those things do well enough where there’s 
only one or two.” 

At this point Murtagh seemed to think that she had 
monopolized the conversation long enough, for he now 
walked up to her, and holding out his hand said gravely : 

“How do you do. Cousin Jane? How do you do, 
Emma ? ” 

The three other children followed his example with 
automatic regularity, and no social extinguisher could 
have been more effective. Cousin Jane was completely 
silenced. 


8o 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


“ It is no use our staying here any longer, mamma,” 
exclaimed Emma. “ We shall see them all when they 
are quiet and tidy in the house this evening. We could 
not imagine,” she said, turning politely to Nessa, “ what 
all the noise was. That is why we came up ; we left the 
carriage in the road.” 

“ It is a birthday,” said Nessa, smiling as she glanced 
at the groups of followers, “ and we are en grande fete."' 

“ We Ve got a jolly good feast for them too,” said 
Bobbo confidentially. 

“A feast, have you ?” exclaimed Cousin Jane. “Oh 
well, there ’s a lot of fruit and some lollypops and cakes 
in the carriage. You ’d like them now I daresay as well 
as any other time ; you can make a division. Here, you 
little fellow,” she continued, turning to one of the fol- 
lowers ; “ do you know how to eat sweeties ? ” 

The little girl addressed put her finger sheepishly in 
her mouth, and Cousin Jane pulled out of her pocket a 
large paper of sweeties, which she proceeded good- 
humoredly to distribute, while Emma turning to Nessa 
asked if such a noise did not make her head ache ? 

“No! ” said Nessa, “it amused me very much.” 

“ And I daresay you Ve been accustomed to it,” added 
Cousin Jane. “But I wonder what Ma’mselle would 
say to such lessons \ eh, Emma ? ” 

Emma laughed contemptuously, and Cousin Jane 
dropping her voice to a confidential tone continued: 
“You know I’m the only lady they have to look after 
them at all, so we must have some talks about them. It 
is quite terrible the way poor Mr. Blair forgets his 
responsibility. It always has been the way with him ; 
the idea of allowing them to come up here with that pack 
of dirty children. Nobody in the world but John would 
do such a thing. And just fancy not having got another 
governess for them yet, when tlieir last went away more 
than three months ago. But he ’s so wrapped up in 
books, and stones, and pictures, he puts all his duties on 
one side. If it wasn’t for Mr. Plunkett I don’t know 
what would become of the place ; that man is the salva- 
tion of the estate.” 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


I8l 


This seemed a fruitful subject to Cousin Jane, for she 
continued to talk without interruption till the carriage 
was reached. 

Nessa, quite taken aback by the sudden confidence, 
found nothing to say, and was only glad that the children 
had careered on in front. Frankie was not in the car- 
riage ; he had preferred to drive in the dog-cart with a 
servant ; so it was the affair of a few minutes only to 
find the basket Cousin Jane destined for the children; 
and then, somewhat it must be confessed to the relief of 
every one, the carriage drove on towards Castle Blair. 

“Wait till you see Frankie,” said Murtagh, turning 
towards Nessa as the carriage disappeared round the 
corner. He’s not a bit like that.” 

“I say, Murtagh,” called Bobbo from the stream at 
the other side of the slope where he and Winnie were 
already disporting themselves, “come and wash your 
hands, and let us see about unpacking the grub.” A 
hatful of water flung after the invitation proved irre- 
sistible; in another minute Murtagh was taking his 
reV'Cnge, and water was flying in every direction. 

Suddenly in the midst of the fun a splendid New- 
foundland dog bounded through the hedge and over the 
little stream, fairly upsetting Winnie, and splashing the 
water over them all. 

“In the name of all that’s wonderful where do you 
come from ? ” exclaimed Murtagh, as Winnie, picking 
herself up, rushed after the dog, crying : “jOh, you 
beauty ! come here.” 

A low rippling laugh made both Nessa and Murtagh 
look round, and in a dog-cart on the other side of the 
hedge they saw a delicate-looking little boy sitting watch- 
ing Winnie with delight. 

“Frankie !” exclaimed Murtagh springing forward. 

“ Yes,” said Frankie. “ How do you do ? What are 
you doing ? Was it you making that jolly noise ? Have 
you heard why we Ve come here ? There is such a 
splendid plan. The doctors say I am to go to the sea- 
side somewhere in the south, and some of you are to 
come.” 


i 82 


CASTLE BLAIB. 


Murtagh was busy climbing through the hedge and 
into the dog-cart, so he scarcely heard what Frankie was 
saying, but now took his place beside him exclaiming : 
“ How are you, old fellow ? Are you any better ? Where 
did you get him ? He is such a beauty 1 The last 
words referred, of course, to the dog, whom Winnie had 
caught, and was now leading back to the stream. 

The flush of excitement faded from Frankie’s cheek, 
and he seemed to have some difficulty in getting bis 
breath after the volley of questions he had poured out. 
In reply to the first part of Murtagh’s inquiries he only 
seemed to shrink into himself, and shook his head. The 
servant who accompanied him began to assure Murtagh 
that Mr. Frank was much better, and would soon be 
quite well now; but Frankie seemed to wish to change 
the subject, and said hurriedly: “Yes, isn’t he splendid ! 
He was given to me, but I ’ve been training him for 
Winnie. He ’s no good to me, you know; if he knocks 
me over I don’t get my breath back for a week. But I 
thought she’d like him. He’s as quiet as a lamb unless 
you set him at anybody, and then he goes at thtem 
like — ” 

“ Like an Irishman,” suggested Murtagh ; but though 
his words were meant for a joke he looked wistfully at 
his cousin, wishing to ask more questions about his 
health. He was very fond of Frankie, and it made him 
sorry to see the sunken cheeks and wasted hands that 
told evei* to childish eyes how ill the boy was. 

Frankie nodded and sat silently looking at Winnie and 
the dog with a pleased smile playing round his mouth. 

Winnie had not yet perceived him, and her attention 
was entirely absorbed by the dog. Both her arms were 
round its neck, and as she walked along by its side, 
bending down, she showered upon it every endearing 
epitliet she could think of. 

“ Perhaps you ’re lost, and perhaps we won’t be able 
to find your master, however hard we look, and then 
you ’ll stay with us ; won’t you, my beauty ? ” she was 
sa3dng when she glanced up and saw Frankie. 


CASTLE BLAIB. 


^3 


Instantly the dog was forgotten, and she flew towards 
the road, exclaiming: “ Frankie ! How jolly ! ” 

Frankie laughed again his low, pleased laugh; but 
having suffered for the rapid questions with which he 
had saluted Murtagh, he did not attempt to say more 
than, “Yes; here I am,” as Winnie climbed up on the 
wheel of the dog-cart and pulled down his face to be 
kissed. 

“ We ’re having such fun ! ” she continued ; “ get down, 
and come up to the tower with us.” She jumped down 
herself as she spoke, and threw her arms round the dog, 
who stood wagging his tail. 

“No, I mustn’t do that,” replied Frankie, looking 
wistfully at the tower and then smiling again as his eyes 
fell to the dog standing by Winnie’s side. “I only 
stopped to see what you ’d think of Royal.” 

“You don’t mean to say that this beautiful dog is 
yours ! ” exclaimed Winnie. “ Oh, Frankie, you are a 
lucky boy ! ” 

“ Yes it is,” said Murtagh. 

“Your very, very own; not your mother’s or any- 
body’s ? ” inquired Winnie, doubtful whether it were 
possible for any child to possess such a treasure. 

“ No,” said Frankie : “ he isn’t mine, he is yours.” 

“Wha — what do you mean?” asked Winnie aston- 
ished, the color deepening a little in her cheeks as the 
dream-like possibility flashed across her mind. 

“I mean what I say,” repeated Frankie, his face 
beaming. “He is your very own dog; I have been 
training him for you, and I ’ve brought him here for 
you ! ” 

Winnie did not seem able to take it in. The color 
spread over her cheeks and mounted to her forehead. 
Her big eyes grew round and bigger, but she did not 
dare to believe such a thing could be till Murtagh 
exclaimed : 

“ Frankie ’s given him to you. He ’s your very own, 
as own as own can be ! ” 

Then a light broke over her face, and tightening the 


184 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


grasp of her arms round Royal’s neck she half-strangled 
him in an embrace, while all she could say was, “ Oh, 
Frankie ! ” 

Frankie seemed well satisfied with her thanks. 

Murtagh laughed and said : “ She doesn’t believe it 
now.” 

“Yes, I do,” said Winnie, “only it’s too good! I 
can’t seem to know it. Oh, Frankie, I think I shall go 
cracky with gladness ! ” Suddenly finding the power of 
expressing her delight she tore up the hill, calling to 
Royal to follow, and burst upon the assembled chil- 
dren, exclaiming : “ He ’s mine I He ’s my very own I 
Frankie’s just given him to me ! ” Then she raced down 
again like some mad thing, and ran away at full speed 
over the heather with Royal at her heels. She came 
back in about five minutes panting and rosy, with her 
hand upon the dog’s collar, declaring that now she could 
stay quiet; and her brilliant face would have been 
reward enough for a more selfish person than Frankie. 

Frankie stayed only to display some of Royal’s accom- 
plishments and to show Winnie’s name engraved upon 
the collar. Then he drove away, leaving their new 
treasure with the children. 

But it was getting to be quite afternoon by this time, 
and nobody had had any dinner yet, so Murtagh careered 
up the hill, crying: “Come along now, and let’s have 
scene number two in the entertainment. I feel as if I 
was quite ready for scene number two. How are you, 
Winnie.?” 

Winnie’s answer was more expressive than elegant, 
and then they set to work to unpack the hampers. In a 
very few moments the white cloth was spread upon the 
ground and covered with Mrs. Donegan’s dainties. The 
children were in no way disappointed in the pleasure of 
watching the queer expressions of the followers’ faces as 
dish after dish came out of the hampers. Poor hungry 
followers ! they had had nothing to eat since an early 
hour that morning, and few of them had ever even seen 
such things as Mrs. Donegan had prepared. So it is not 


CASTLE BLAin. 


85 


to be wondered at, that when they found themselves 
sitting on the grass round that wonderful feast, with free 
leave to eat whatever they pleased, the event seemed to 
them really too good to be true. 

Winnie was in ecstacy over their pleasure. At first 
they were too shy to help themselves to anything, but 
she jumped up and had soon piled some of their plates. 
Rosie and the boys did the same, and the followers 
quickly recovered themselves sufficiently to talk, and 
eat, and laugh. 

“ Now, whatever more you want you must really help 
yourselves,” cried Murtagh, returning to his place after 
having gone once round. “ I ’m so starving that if I 
don’t get something soon I shall eat one of you.” 

Royal had waited like a perfect gentleman, as he was, 
till all were helped ; but now he gravely poked his black 
muzzle into Winnie’s hand in a manner that said as 
plainly as any words, “Give me a little cold pie, if you 
please.” He had not to ask twice. Winnie gave him a 
great plateful of miscellaneous food, and as on the fast 
emptying plates there began to appear all manner of 
suitable scraps, a constant cry of, “ Here, Royal ! 
Royal ! ” kept him racing round the tablecloth. One 
little girl wished to be very polite, and as he was Win- 
nie’s dog thought it better to call him Master Royal. 
That made the others ashamed of their bad manners, but 
they soon corrected themselves, and from that day forth 
he was Master Royal to the followers. 

At first there was not very much talking, for all were 
so hungry they were glad to eat. But when once the 
edge was taken off their appetites the Irish tongues got 
loose ; and then they chattered, they laughed, they sang 
snatches of songs, they drank healths in water, and made 
mock speeches each more ludicrous than the last, till 
everybody was half-incapacitated with laughter. Mur- 
tagh was the soul of the party. Nessa wondered where 
his words and ideas came from, they flowed out so fast. 
Seated in state at the head of the table she was very gay 
and happy. She was unusually amused* by this wild, 
inerr}! crew, and such spirits as theirs were infectious. 


CASTLE JiLATR. 


I86 


The feast over, Royal was with much mock solemnity 
received into the tribe, a ceremony which he disrespect- 
fully brought to an abrupt ending by knocking over four 
or five of his sponsors. They then divided into parties, 
and played robber games among the hills, till the fading 
light warned them that even the pleasantest of days wi/I 
come to an end. The remains of the feast were divided 
between the followers. Tommie was yoked into the cart 
again, and at last to his satisfaction, if to nobody else’s, 
his willing head was turned homewards. 

But even then the children were not tired. It was 
wonderful to see how they caracoled round the cart, and 
sang and laughed the whole way home; and when, 
finally, they drove up in state and deposited Nessa upon 
the hall-door steps, the last cheer they gave her was as 
hearty as any they had uttered that day. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

W HILE the “tribe” trotted off in just the same 
wild spirits to return the cart and horse, Nessa 
entered the house witli a sudden and not pleasant recol- 
lection that Cousin Jane was there, and would have to 
be talked to all the evening. 

There was scarcely time to do more than dress for 
dinner, but she went to the school-room as usual before 
going up stairs to see if the curtains were drawn and the 
fire bright for the children. To her dismay she found it 
full of people. Cousin Jane was sitting by the fire talk- 
ing to Mr. Plunkett. Emma had taken down some of 
the lesson-books from the bookcase, and was showing 
them to Mademoiselle; Frankie, looking tired and 
excited, was curled up in an arm-chair by the window. 

“Well, you see we have lost no time,” exclaimed 
Cousin Jane as Nessa entered. “ I found Mr. Plunkett, 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


87 


and I have just been talking to him about those chil- 
dren. For poor Launcelot’s sake it really goes to my 
heart to see the state they are in. To think of children 
of their family and position being allowed to run wild 
with little beggars and vagabonds ! It is quite unheard- 
of. I have been telling Mr. Plunkett he should keep 
them a little more strictly. If it were known what 
associates they have it would be very unpleasant for 
Emma. But it ’s always the way when there ’s no lady 
In the house to look after things. Don ’t be offended, 
my dear,” she added, with a little laugh. “You are 
young, you know; and besides, of course, it doesn’t 
concern you.” 

Nessa felt very sorry for the children. What Cousin 
Jane said was perfectly true, it was time for some one 
to look after them ; but instinctively Nessa felt that 
Cousin Jane and Mr. Plunkett together were likely to 
prove worse than no one. 

“ Have they returned from their expedition ? ” inquired 
Mr. Plunkett. 

“ Yes ; they have gone to take back the horse and the 
cart to the stable,” replied Nessa innocently. 

“ I will go to them at once,” said Mr. Plunkett, turn- 
ing to Cousin Jane, “and hear what they mean by 
taking the horse and cart without my permission ; and I 
will make that ragamuffin crew of theirs clearly under- 
stand for the future that if they are found trespassing 
on these grounds they will be taken up. That will, I 
think, be the best means of carrying out your wishes. 
And, indeed, believ^e me, you cannot feel more strongly 
than I do the necessity of breaking off the undesirable 
friendships that exist between these children and the 
little vagabonds of the village. Something should be 
done. I feel unfortunately my personal authority to be 
so vague that I hesitate to act alone, but armed with 
your permission there are several steps which I should 
like to take.” 

Mr. Plunkett had evidently had a long talk with 
Cousin Jane, and seemed to have thawed a little under 
the influence of her sympathy. 


i88 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


“We must talk it all over,” replied Cousin Jane. 
“ If they are to spend months at the sea with Frankie 
they must mend their ways. They will find they can’t 
have twenty or thirty dirty followers hanging about my 
house.” 

“ I feel assured,” said Mr. Plunkett, “ that stricter 
measures are necessary, and separated from their dis- 
reputable associates you will find that much can be 
effected.” 

“ I ’m sure I don’t know what is to be done,” said 
Cousin Jane, with a helpless sort of expression. “ All 
I know is that I should be ashamed for any of our 
friends to know that there are such children in the 
family.” 

“Well, I will go now and have an explanation of 
their present conduct,” returned Mr. Plunkett, moving 
towards the door. 

“ Oh, Mr. Plunkett, not now ! ” exclaimed Nessa, who 
did not like to interfere, but who pictured to herself 
only too clearly the kind of scene likely to ensue were 
he to meet the children in their present state of wild 
spirits. “They are all so excited now,” she added, 
turning to Cousin Jane, “and when they are excited 
they say — they do not know what they say — Will you 
not wait till to-morrow } ” 

“ I ’m sure I don ’t know, my dear ; I never had to 
do with children like these. Let Mr. Plunkett do as he 
likes.” 

Mr. Plunkett had stood with his hand on the door 
while Nessa spoke, but as Cousin Jane answered for him 
he merely bowed, said a general “Good-evening,” and 
left the room. 

He knew the children would be in the haggart, and 
he walked briskly in that direction. For a minute or 
two he had debated in his mind whether perhaps it 
would not be better to leave the matter, as Nessa sug- 
gested, till the next day. But he had quickly decided 
to keep to his own plan. Murtagh’s spirit required to 
be broken. He ought to be humiliated, to be shown 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


189 


that his independent ways could not be tolerated. 
Nothing short of that would reduce him to submission, 
and how would he ever learn to bear the discipline of 
life if he were not taught now to obey ? “I am the only 
person who is in any sort of authority over him,’’ thought 
Mr. Plunkett, “ and if the boy will defy me in this open 
manner I must show him openly that I am stropger than 
he.” 

No better opportunity than this would be likely to 
present itself for a long time. Murtagh had doubtless 
boasted before all those children how little he cared 
whether they took the cart with or without leave, and 
had probably told how nearly they had been prevented 
from holding their festival. Mr'. Plunkett imagined him 
laughing over his victory, and that thought decided the 
matter. He would speak to Murtagh before the whole 
crew, and he would make the village children under- 
stand for their part that he would not have them hang- 
ing about the place. His position in the village as well 
as in the immediate household was affected ; and in 
defence of his own authority it was absolutely necessary 
for him to speak at once, and show that he was not to 
be trifled with. 

In this frame of mind he arrived within earshot of 
the haggart. Scraps of song, shouts, and laughter, 
reached him from time to time ; some piece of fun was 
evidently going on. 

The sound of the merriment only strengthened his 
resolution, and his anger was in no way abated when he 
stood at the gate of the haggart by seeing Murtagh and 
Winnie with stable lanterns in their hands standing up 
together on Tommie’s back. They were performing 
some kind of circus entertainment for the amusement 
of the assembled crowd ; and Royal, as much excited 
as the children, was apparently endeavoring to leap on 
the horse’s back. 

They had collected a quantity of straw lying about 
the haggart, and had spread it upon the ground in order 
that they might “fall soft,” but at the first glance Mr, 


I go 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


Plunkett imagined that they had knocked down part of 
a corn-rick for the purpose, and he advanced at once 
toward Murtagh, saying sternly : 

“ Stop this tomfoolery, sir, and tell me what you mean 
by destroying your uncle’s property in this wanton 
manner ! ” 

“ Destroy my uncle’s granny fiddlesticks ! ” retorted 
Winnie with a merry peal of laughter. ‘‘We’re not 
destroying anything except our own bones. Look out, 
Murtagh, I ’m slipping again.” As she spoke she slip- 
ped to a sitting position, but Murtagh remained standing, 
and steadied himself against her shoulder while a 
smothered laugh burst from the crowd, and one incau- 
tious — “ It ’s like his impudence,” was distinctly heard. 

“I tell you what it is, young gentleman,” returned 
Mr. Plunkett, now thoroughly angry, “ your disobedi- 
ence and impertinence have gone on too long. I am 
tired of bearing with you, and I will do it no longer. 
It is time such behavior was stopped, and stopped it 
shall be in one way or another. Were you aware when 
you took that horse and the cart to-day that I had given 
orders for them to be employed elsewhere "i ” 

Murtagh surveyed Mr Plunkett for a minute from his 
vantage ground on the back of the horse, and then 
replied coolly : 

“ Perfectly aware.” 

Again an irritating titter ran through the crowd, and 
Mr. Plunkett answered hotly: 

“ Let me tell you, then, that for the future when you 
are aware of my commands you will be wise if you obey 
them. I have forgiven you often enough, and hence- 
forth every disobedience shall be punished as it deserves. 
Little boys seldom gain much by setting themselves up 
in rebellion against their elders.” 

He paused. Murtagh’s face had grown blacker, but 
he only twirled a straw between his lips, and without 
speaking looked straight at Mr. Plunkett. 

Dead silence reigned for a minute, then Winnie gave 
a provoking little laugh. Her face was as distinctly 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


I91 


visible as Murtagh’s, for her lantern rested upon her 
knee; her eyes were sparkling, her mouth ready to 
break again into laughter; and as she sat there upon 
the horse’s back, swinging her legs, she seemed to be 
thoroughly enjoying the scene. She was too much 
excited to be angry. 

At the sound of her laughter Mr. Plunkett continued : 

“ But I should have thought that even you would have 
known better than to drag your sisters into such com- 
panionship as this.” 

He pointed as he spoke to the crowd of followers. 

If you choose to pick your own companions from among 
the rabble of the village, you might at least have suffi- 
cient gentlemanly feeling to induce you to shield your 
sisters from the like associates.” 

“ Well, you are polite,” laughed Winnie, while Mur- 
tagh replied with an angry tone in his voice : 

“ Don’t talk about my friends at all, if you please, 
unless you can talk more civilly.” 

“Friends!” returned Mr. Plunkett. “They are 
certainly charming friends for a young gentleman of 
your position I But till you learn to choose your society 
from a different rank you must hold your entertainments 
somewhere else. For I give you all fair warning,” he 
continued, turning to the troop of children, “that the 
next time I catch one of you hanging about here I send 
you off to prison for trespassing.” 

“ You shall do nothing of the sort,” retorted Murtagh. 
“ They are my friends ; real, true friends, who love me, 
and who would do anything I told them to. Aren t 
you ? ” he added, appealing to the followers. 

“ That are we so I ” they cried with one voice, while 
Murtagh continued : 

“ I am proud of them ; they are honest and real. 
They love me, and I love them. What do we care 
about positions 1 They shall come here when they 
please, and you are not to insult them.” 

He drew his figuie up to its full height, and delivered 
the last words with authority. They were received with 


192 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


a hearty shout by the excited followers ; and as soon as 
Mr. Plunkett’s voice could be heard above the noise, he 
replied with some irritation : 

“ Don’t talk to me in such a ridiculous manner, sir. 
I shall do whatever seems to me to be proper ; and I am 
not joking about this matter. If I ever again find such 
a dirty, disreputable crowd assembled on your uncle’s 
premises, every member of it shall be taken up for tres- 
passing. Whether you are invited by Mr. Murtagh, or 
whether you are not,” he added, turning again to the 
crowd. “And further, unless you wish me to call a 
policeman now, you had better go away to your homes as 
fast as you can.” 

The followers huddled silently together not knowing 
what to do, but Murtagh burst out angrily: 

“ How dare you ? Do you know what you are doing? 
Do you know that if I chose to tell them they would 
take you and duck you in the stable pond.” 

At the words there ran through the crowd an eager 
movement which made Mr. Plunkett remember thank- 
fully that he had on one of his oldest coats. Twenty to 
one were unfair odds, and some of the twenty were 
strongly-built boys ; however, he answered coldly : 

“ When you speak to me in such a manner I think 
you forget the difference of age between us, and the 
position in which I stand towards you. Such unseemly 
outbursts only serve to prove |hat the society you have 
chosen is not likely to fit you for the career of a gentle- 
man, and leave me no alternative but to take by force 
the obedience you will not render willingly. I give you 
two minutes to clear this haggart. If it is not empty at 
the end of that time you and your sisters shall be taken 
home, and I will settle the matter my own way with this 
rabble.” 

As it happened two of the night police walked up to 
the gate while he was speaking and looked into the 
yard. Mr. Plunkett signed to them to enter, and con- 
tinued significantly : “You see my words are not vain. 
I mean what I say. Choose your own course.” 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


193 


Murtagh saw that he was overpowered ; he had no 
choice but to obey. The sense of being baffled and 
defeated by mere armed force was very bitter, and all 
the roused passion within him burst forth as he an- 
swered : 

“ Yes ; you have conquered this time because you 
have got grown-up men to help you, and they are 
stronger than us. But you shall see I will be free. If 
you fight with me you will get the worst of it. I will 
receive my friends wherever I please, and you had bet 
ter not dare to interfere with me again. I tell you 
when you do it it makes me feel as if I could kill 
you.” 

“ That ’s right, Mr. Murtagh ; an’ it would be a good 
riddance to the country the day ye did it,” shouted hot- 
headed Pat O’Toole, who could no longer contain his 
indignation. 

Almost before the words were out of the boy’s mouth 
Mr. Plunkett’s hand was on his collar, and some sharp 
blows from Mr. Plunkett’s cane repaid the speech. An 
angry murmur ran through the crowd. Murtagh sprang 
from the horse’s back and threw himself between them, 
receiving upon his face and head a part of the swiftly- 
descending shower of blows. For a moment there was 
a confused struggle. Bobbo tried to make his way to 
the rescue. Winnie had risen to her .feet, and with 
flashing eyes she called : “ At him, Royal ; at him ! ” 

The great dog bounded forward, seized Mr. Plun- 
kett’s coat-sleeve in his teeth, and the next minute 
Murtagh and Pat were standing side by side defiantly 
facing Mr. Plunkett. 

Murtagh’s face was even whiter than usual, and across 
one cheek a dark red stripe showed where the cane had 
struck him. 

“Come,” he said, turning to the tribe. He led the 
way to the gate, and they followed him slowly, the dog 
holding Mr. Plunkett immovable the while. 

Only Pat O’Toole did not stir. He stood facing Mr. 
Plunkett. From the gate Murtagh called to him. Then 

13 


194 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


he turned and followed the others, but before leaving 
the yard he stopped, and shaking his fist at Mr. Plun- 
kett, he exclaimed passionately: 

“You shall repent this evening’s work; ye haven’t 
struck Pat O’Toole for nothing.” 

“ Come, Royal ; loose him, good dog ! ” cried Win- 
nie. The dog trotted after them, and the whole troop 
of children disappeared into the darkness. 


CHAPTER XIX. 



HAT evening Cousin Jane’s proposal to take 


1 Winnie and Murtagh with her to the south of 
England was discussed, and of course accepted. She 
intended to spend a few days at Castle Blair, and to 
start on the first of November. 

Frankie was in a state of exceeding delight at the 
prospect, and was eager to talk over the plan with his 
little cousins. But the bright red spots upon his cheeks 
and the feverish brilliancy of his eyes, drew many 
anxious glances from his mother, and she coaxed him 
not to wait up for them. “ Every one was tired with 
traveling,” she said ; so the drawing-room party dis- 
persed at an early hour. 

Nessg. was glad to be free, for though every one else 
had completely forgotten the children’s immediate con- 
cerns, she was anxiously wondering what had been the 
result of their interview with Mr. Plunkett. She went 
at once to the school-room and found that the children 
had come in. They had had their tea. Rosie and 
Bobbo were lolling by the fire discussing the events of 
the day. Royal was lying curled up on the hearth-rug, 
and Winnie had made a pillow of his body, but she was 
silent. Murtagh was at the piano composing a battle 
piece. 


CASTLE BLAITl. 


195 


He ceased as Nessa entered, and threw himself into 
his favorite position on the floor near her chair. 

“ Have you seen Mr. Plunkett 1 ” she asked. 

“ Yes,” said Murtagh in a tone that meant he was not 
going to say any more. 

“And he was just as impudent as usual,” added 
Winnie, sitting up as she spoke, and pushing back her 
hair. “ But he got the worst of it this time, thanks to 
Royal.” 

“ Oh, Winnie, what have you done ? ” asked Nessa. 

“ Well, we were only amusing ourselves and not hurt- 
ing anybody, and he came up and began worrying as 
usual,” returned Winnie, somewhat defiantly answering 
the tone of Nessa’s voice. “And besides, he had no 
business to talk like that before all the followers.” 

Murtagh’s face softened a little as he looked at 
Nessa’s. “ Tell her just what we did if she wants to 
know,” he said. 

“Oh, dear!” sighed Winnie. “What is the good 
of going all over it again "i I ’m sure he ’s bad enough 
when he ’s here without bothering about him when he ’s 
not here.” 

“ Well, but it served him right,” said Bobbo ; “ I only 
just wish Royal had given him a good bite.” And 
beginning at the beginning Winnie told the whole story 
as nearly as possible as it happened, neither exaggerating 
nor omitting anything. Murtagh watched Nessa’s face 
in the mean while to see what she thought of it. She 
did not look at him, and she listened in perfect silence 
till Winnie ended her recital. 

“ Oh, I am so sorry,” she said ; then looking round to 
Murtagh, “ so very, very sorry. How could you do it ? ” 

“ Why shouldn’t we do it ? ” asked Winnie. “ He 
had no business to talk to us like that.” 

“ You will only make him more and more angry with 
you now,” said Nessa regretfully. “ And then,” she 
added, “it is wrong; it is very wrong; you must not be 
angry with me for telling you so, for it is only true, and 
makes me so sorry.” 


196 


CASTLE BLAIB. 


The children were silent for a moment, and then Mur- 
tagh said : 

“ But I can’t help it. He puts me in such a rage.” 

“Yes,” said Nessa, “but I will tell you honestly what 
I think. I think you ought not to let yourself be put so 
easily in a rage. It is not worthy of you ; you could do 
better than that. Listen, what you have done to-day. 
When we were on the mountain you promised to try to 
be gentle and kind. You promised all together — the 
whole tribe — but you were the chief. And the chief 
ought to watch over his followers, oughtn’t he .? He 
ought to see that they keep their promises, and he ought 
to try to keep them out of trouble. But you did not do 
that; you came down from the mountain where you 
promised, and you broke the promise yourself, and you 
made all the others break it too. Now Mr. Plunkett 
will be angry with them all, and Pat O’Toole will be in 
trouble.” 

The defiant look faded out of Winnie’s face, and 
Murtagh looked abashed as for the first time he remem- 
bered the promise he had made that morning. 

“ I quite forgot,” he murmured. 

“ I did not think you would have forgotten so soon,” 
said Nessa. 

That quiet reproach was more bitter to Murtagh than 
any scolding. 

“ I did not mean to,” he said ; “ I did mean to remem- 
ber it always ; always. But he makes me forget every- 
thing. Oh, how I hate him ! ” 

The last words burst out passionately, and he knelt 
upon the hearth-rug with flashing eyes. 

“ I don’t think that ’s having ‘ Peace and goodwill,’ ” 
remarked Rosie. 

“ I carCt help it,” said Murtagh in despair, looking up 
at Nessa ; “ that ’s just how it always comes. But I will 
do anything you tell me. I will — beg his pardon if you 
like, because I was in earnest. I did mean to remem- 
ber.” 

“ Oh, Myrrh I ” remonstrated Winnie, who thought 


CASTLE BLAIE. 


197 


that his repentance was really carrying him beyond all 
reasonable bounds. 

Nessa looked at him compassionately. She had never 
hated any one in her life, but she had often loved, and 
she felt as if she loved Murtagh very much just then in 
spite of all his faults. 

“ Poor Murtagh ! ” she said. “ Perhaps it will not 
always be so difficult.” 

Murtagh looked at her with a sad wistful expression 
for a moment, and then he quietly dropped back again 
into the dark corner beside her chair. 

No one spoke for a minute or two. Then Winnie 
returned to the subject that seemed to have disturbed 
her. “ But you don’t want Murtagh to beg his pardon, 
do you ? ” she said. “ Because you know he couldn’t 
really, of course.” 

“Yes, I can,” came in a low resolute voice from Mur- 
tagh’s corner. 

“ Can you ? Can you really "i ” asked Nessa. To tell 
the truth she would not have liked to do it herself. 

Bobbo and Rosie looked with eager curiosity towards 
Murtagh. They could not believe he was in earnest. 
But Winnie burst out again before he had time to 
answer: “Myrrh, you can’t! You don’t* know what 
you ’re saying. Go and beg his pardon ! That old scur- 
mudgeon, who has always worried us from the very first 
day we came here ! ” 

No words can convey the opprobrium that Winnie 
contrived to throw into her pronunciation of curmud- 
geon ; the one letter she added to it expressed more 
than a whole volume of epithets. Murtagh’s answer did 
not come at once, but after a moment’s silence he said 
steadily; “Yes, I am almost sure I can.” 

“ If you can,” said Nessa, “ it is the very best thing 
you could do. Because,” she continued, seeing Winnie 
ready to burst out again; “ it is not only for you, it is for 
your friend Pat. Uncle Blair has told me such dreadful 
things of the people about here. And perhaps it is very 
foolish of me, but Pat is a big boy, and if he does not 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


io8 


forgive Mr. Plunkett he might really try to be revenged ; 
and then if — if anything dreadful happened, it would be 
your fault too.” 

That was the first idea that had occurred to Nessa on 
hearing of Pat’s threat. She had been so much im 
pressed by all that she had seen and heard since her 
arrival that she could not help feeling as though they 
were living in the midst of barbarians, and she con 
stantly dreaded some fresh disaster. 

“ If Murtagh does it I ’ll do it too,” said Winnie, 
reflectively. “ I ’m not going to let him do it alone. 
But I don’t think we can, all the same.” 

The next morning, however, just as Nessa had finished 
dressing, there came a knock at her door, and Murtagh 
and Winnie entered. • 

“We’ve come to tell you,” said Murtagh, “that we 
will do what we said.” ' 

“ Oh ! I am so glad ! ” she cried joyfully. Then as 
she kissed them, she added, “ Good morning ; I think it 
is very good of you.” 

“ Then after, I ’ll go and find Pat and make him 
apologize too,” said Murtagh. 

“Yes do,” said Nessa, greatly relieved, for her night’s 
reflection h^d not in the least diminished her nervous 
fears. At that moment the breakfast-bell ringing loudly 
summoned them to the dining-room, and in the corridor 
they were met by Cousin Jane. Her arms were full of 
presents that she had brought for them all, and while 
she was displaying them Frankie came out of his room. 
He began eagerly to tell of the seaside plan ; the children 
were perfectly delighted at the prospect. Cousin Jane 
was pleased with their pleasure, and they were all 
entering the dining-room in a merry mood, when Brown, 
with a solemn face, informed Murtagh that Mr. Blair 
desired he would step into the study. 

“ What ’s up ? What ’s the matter ? ” cried Murtagh 
and Frankie together, and Cousin Jane also asked, 
“ Has anything happened, Brown ? ” 

“Yes, Madam,” returned Brown, who evidently desired 


CASTLE BLAIIi. 


199 


nothing better than to tell the news. “The Red House 
was set fire to last night, and one of the children, they 
say, nearly killed. The flames were put out quickly, 
and this is the first we Ve heard of it up at the house. 
But it was no accident. Ma’am. It began in the hay- 
yard, and when the flames burst out Mrs. Plunkett 
jumped out of bed to see what it was, and there was a 
boy” — here Brown hesitated a little and glanced at 
Murtagh — “ about as big as Master Murtagh, standing 
in the road, but the minute she came to the window he 
turned and ran.” 

A smothered exclamation from Murtagh caused them 
all to glance at him. He and Winnie were looking at 
each other in dismay; the same thought was in both 
their minds. “ Had Pat already taken his revenge ? If 
he had it was all their fault.” For the first moment they 
were too much startled to think of anything else; the 
next, they had remembered that if it were one of their 
followers they must at least do their best to prevent 
suspicion falling upon him. Murtagh tried to recover 
himself; Winnie slipped her hand into his, and en- 
deavored also to look unconcerned. But Mr. Plunkett 
could not have chosen a worse moment to make his 
appearance. 

Before any one else could speak his voice was heard, 
strangely hollow, and yet more stern than usual, saying : 
“ Be so kind as to come this way at once, sir.” 

Winnie did not let go Murtagh’s hand as he entered 
the study. Cousin Jane’s curiosity was aroused, and she 
made no scruple of pressing in with Frankie, so Nessa 
entered with the rest. 

Mrs. Plunkett was there. Mr. Blair was sitting by the 
writing-table, looking graver than Nessa had ever seen 
him. He seemed not to see any one but Murtagh and 
Winnie. As they approached his chair he fixed his eyes 
upon Murtagh, and said : 

“Tell me, Murtagh, all that you know about the 
burning of the Red House.” 

Murtagh was still very white, but he answered straight 
forwardly : 


200 


CASTLE BLAIE. 


“ I do not know anything at all except what Brown 
has just told us.” 

“ What did he tell you ? ” inquired Mr. Blair. 

“ That Mr. Plunkett’s haggart was burnt, and the fire 
spread to the house, and one of the children was hurt, 
and — But here Murtagh’s voice faltered and he 
stopped. 

Cousin Jane began to have an inkling of what was the 
matter. 

“Tell the truth, Murtagh,” she exclaimed. “What 
else did he tell you ? ” 

Murtagh glanced at Mr. Blair in hopes that he was 
satisfied, but his face wore an expression of stern ex- 
pectancy that compelled Murtagh to continue. “And,” 
he said, “that when Mrs. Plunkett looked out of the 
window she saw a boy standing in the road.” 

“ And did he tell you nothing else ? ” inquired Mr. 
Blair. * 

“ No,” said Murtagh, beginning to feel really puzzled 
at his uncle’s strange manner. 

“ He did not tell you who that boy was,” continued 
Mr. Blair. 

“ No,” exclaimed Murtagh with eager interest. Per- 
haps it was not one of his followers; perhaps he had 
been frightening himself without a cause after all. 

His uncle looked at him for a moment, and then 
answered : 

“ Murtagh,” it is useless to keep up this deception any 
longer. Mrs. Plunkett says you are the boy she saw.” 

Murtagh’s nerves were already strained, and for one 
instant he was completely overcome by so unexpected 
an accusation. The color rushed to his cheeks, and 
his eyes filled with tears ; but in a moment he was him- 
self again, and raising his head proudly, he replied : 

“ Mrs. Plunkett is mistaken. I was not there, and I 
know nothing whatever about the fire.” 

Then he turned and would have left the room as was 
his fashion when offended with Mr. Plunkett. But his 
uncle said : “ Stay, Murtagh, this is a very serious mat- 


CASTLE BLAIE. 


201 


ter, and it is better for you to hear all the evidence 
against you.” There was a kinder tone now, however, 
in Mr. Blair’s voice, and the proud look died a li^.tle out 
of Murtagh’s face as he again took up his place by the 
corner of his uncle’s table. 

Mr. Blair paused, and while the silence lasted Mur- 
tagh’s eyes sought Nessa’s. She had been watching him 
during the whole scene, and now such a look of trust and 
encouragement beamed upon him that for a moment he 
almost forgot his trouble in the pleasure of receiving it. 

“Mrs. Plunkett,” said Mr. Blair at length, “will you 
be so kind as to tell us now exactly what you saw when 
the flames first wakened you ? ” 

“ I saw just what I told you,” began Mrs. Plunkett in 
her nervous hurried manner ; “ the haggart all in flames, 
and on the road where the flames were, Murtagh was 
standing. You know you were, Murtagh. It ’s no use 
denying it; you had on that very gray jacket you have 
on now, and when you saw me you turned and ran away 
as fast as you could. And then I woke Mr. Plunkett,” 
she continued, turning to Mr. Blair; “and all the 
servants, and he went down to see what could be done, 
and out on the road he found this ; but perhaps Murtagh 
will deny that this is his name.” As she spoke she took 
up a dirty pocket-handkerchief which lay on the table 
beside Mr. Blair, and showed “ Murtagh Blair ” written 
in clear letters in one of its corners. 

At Mrs. Plunkett’s mention of the gray jacket Winnie 
and Murtagh mechanically turned their eyes to Mur- 
tagh’s coat, and as they did so a remembrance suddenly 
flashed across them that yesterday Pat O’Toole had worn 
a gray jacket which was not at all unlike Murtagh’s. 
Each looked at the other; the truth was becoming too 
clear to be doubted any longer; and the sight of the 
handkerchief only confirmed their fears. It had been 
used as a towel yesterday by the followers, and had 
probably remained in Pat’s pocket. Murtagh saw that 
Winnie had no longer any doubt, and the knowledge of 
her conviction made his own only the more certain. 


20 2 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


What was to be done ? It was all his temper that had 
brought Pat into this scrape, and now every word he said ' 
in his own defence would be a means of preventing the 
boy from escaping the consequences. Escape he should, 
Murtagh was resolved upon that. He did not know the 
exact punishment for the burning of hay-ricks, but he 
had heard such accidents talked of often enough to 
know that they meant at the very least prison and dis- 
grace for the offender. To shield Pat now was all that 
he could do. And yet he had to fight hard with the 
proud indignation stirred up in him by being falsely 
accused. It was not pleasant to let Mr. Plunkett 
triumph. 

He stood in silence struggling with his thoughts, till 
his uncle asked : “ What have you to say in answer to 
Mrs. Plunkett ? ” 

Then a rush of anger almost overwhelmed every other 
feeling, and though he squeezed Winnie’s hand as a 
signal to her not to speak he answered with sullen pride : 
“ I said before I was not there.” 

His evident perplexity, his glances at Winnie, his 
anger, were all against him, and Mr. Blair replied coldly : 
“ I shall be very glad, more glad than I can tell you, if 
you can clear yourself from this charge. But if you 
cannot, at least make a manly confession ; this flat denial 
is childish.” 

Murtagh remained silent. Winnie’s cheeks flushed, 
and words trembled on her lips. She could not bear 
Murtagh to be treated in this manner. But again the 
warning hand squeezed hers ; she looked at Murtagh and 
was silent. If only she had had nothing to do with 
exciting Pat then she might have spoken. As it was she 
felt that she had no more right than Murtagh to say a 
word, and though she could have cried with perplexity 
and vexation she was forced to be silent. 

Her uncle saw her half-movement, and said sadly, as 
though not liking to abandon his hope of drawing a con- 
fession from Murtagh himself : “ Can you tell us any- 
thing of this matter, Winnie ? ” 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


203 


Wiunie bit her lips, and looked straight in front ot 
her, with her eyes open to their very widest; it was her 
way of keeping back tears, but she only shook her head. 

Cousin Jane’s patience could bear no more. 

“Really, John,” she exclaimed, “I don’t know how 
you can go on bearing with those children’s sulkiness. 
Make them tell out what they know. It ’s plain to 
everybody in the room that they are guilty, and if they 
have anything to say for themselves let them say it out.” 

An expression of annoyance passed quickly over Mr. 
Blair’s countenance, but he replied very gently: 

“You must let me manage this matter in my own way, 
Jane.” 

“Mr. Plunkett,” he continued, as Cousin Jane re-, 
lapsed into indignant silence, “ tell us now, if you please, 
before Murtagh, what you have already told me of his 
behavior yesterday evening.” 

Mr. Plunkett gave a short, business-like account of 
what had happened in the haggart the evening before. 
It was perfectly accurate ; he did not try to slur over the 
fact that he had struck Murtagh. He said that he 
regretted the blows which had been meant more for one 
of the ragamuffins than for Murtagh : and somehow even 
that, which every one felt Mr. Plunkett had no right to 
inflict, told against Murtagh, for it furnished an addi- 
tional motive for his revenge. The dark red mark was 
plainly visible across his cheek, and it seemed, indeed, 
a blow which a high-spirited boy was not likely to have 
received quietly. Only one thing in the story was omit- 
ted. Mr. Plunkett had forgotten Pat O’Toole’s threat. 

“ Can you deny any of this ? ” asked Mr. Blair, as 
Mr. Plunkett ceased. 

“ No,” replied Murtagh, “ it is all quite true.” 

“ But,” said Winnie eagerly, “ it shows Murtagh 
couldn’t have set fire to the place, because we were 
very sorry after, and Murtagh was going to have told 
Mr. Plunkett so this morning.” 

“Were you, Murtagh?” said Mr. Blair 

“ Yes,” said Murtagh shortly. 


204 


CASTLE BLAin. 


Mr. Blair looked toward Mr. Plunkett to see what he 
thought of that, and Mr. Plunkett replied drily : 

“ Murtagh has never done such a thing in his life. I 
must be excused if I do not believe him.’^ 

The angry black look that Nessa had so often seen, 
spread over Murtagh’s countenance. He made no 
answer, but Nessa said at once : “ I know he was going 
to do that.” 

Her words seemed to strengthen a pleasant convic- 
tion that was growing in Mr. Blair’s mind, for though he 
did not look at her the sound of her voice brought a 
quiet little smile to his lips which did not altogether die 
away again. 

Mr. Plunkett replied in the same dry tones : “ The 
main point of evidence against Murtagh is contained in 
the fact that Mrs. Plunkett saw him close to the burning 
haggart at the time of the fire.” 

“You are quite sure that it was Murtagh?” asked 
Mr. Blair, turning to Mrs. Plunkett. 

“ Oh, I ’m quite sure,” she replied. “ I saw his black 
hair and his gray jacket as plain as I do now.” 

“But not his face,” suggested Mr. Blair. “If he 
turned and ran away so quickly you could hardly have 
had time in that uncertain light to make sure of the 
face.” 

“ If I was on my dying bed I ’d swear it was Murtagh,” 
returned Mrs. Plunkett almost in tears. 

“And this handkerchief,” said Mr. Plunkett, “how 
did it come in such a place ? ” 

“Yes, Murtagh,” said Mr. Blair. “How do you 
account for this ? ” 

Again Winnie found the temptation to speak almost 
too strong for her, but Murtagh’s hand was holding hers 
like a vice. Her own sense of right told her she must 
not, and she only looked more blankly than ever in front 
of her as Murtagh answered : “ I don’t know.” 

His uncle looked puzzled and displeased. Cousin 
Jane exclaimed: “I told you so; the truth’s plain 
enough to any one who chooses to see it.” 


CASTLE BLAIE. 


205 


Mr. Plunkett felt quietly triumphant. He was fully 
persuaded that Murtagh had done this, and he was 
determined to bring it home to him. 

But Nessa had guessed the truth from the beginning, 
and it was now her turn to speak. 

“Uncle Blair,” she said, earnestly, “I am quite sure , 
Murtagh has not done this. I think it is another 
person.” 

Her uncle looked towards her with surprise. An 
expression of impatience, instantly repressed, crossed 
Mr. Plunkett’s countenance. 

“ Why, my child ? ” said Mr. Blair, “ what can you 
know about it ? ” 

“ Do you not remember,” she said, turning to Mr. 
Plunkett, “at the end, before they went away, Pat 
O’Toole said he would be revenged because you struck 
him ? ” 

“Pat O’Toole!” exclaimed Mr. Blair. “Why, Plun- 
kett, you forgot to mention this.” 

“ I am sorry,” replied Mr. Plunkett, feeling annoyed 
with himself for not having been stri^ctly business-like. 

“ 1 mentioned that I thrashed a boy, but I did not know 
his name, and I paid little attention to the threat he 
uttered at the gate. The incident seemed to me to have 
no importance.” 

“ But,” said Nessa, a little disappointed to hear by 
Mr. Plunkett’s voice that his conviction was unshaken, 

“ this boy does not look much bigger than Murtagh ; he 
has black hair too, and I think he had a gray jacket 
yesterday. Mrs. Plunkett might easily have been mis- 
taken. She saw him only for one moment. And, 
besides,” she continued, turning towards her uncle, and 
suddenly lighting up as she sometimes did, “Murtagh 
could not have done it. He would not have done it. 
Only one of those people would have done a thing so 
cowardly and so cruel.” 

“I think you are right, my dear,” said her uncle 
gravely. “Plunkett, this alters the affair,” he said, 
turning to Mr. Plunkett. “ I can do no more till I see 


206 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


this boy. Will you send for him? I should like to 
speak to him immediately after breakfast. You may go 
now,” he adde'd, speaking to Murtagh. “ I shall want 
you again-'by-and-by. You are of my opinion, are you 
not, Plunkett ? ” 

, “ No, sir,” replied Mr. Plunkett firmly. “ I cannot 

say that my opinion is in any way altered. But it is 
advisable to leave no point disregarded.” 

Murtagh was in despair at the new turn affairs were 
taking. In his simplicity he had never thought of Nessa 
guessing too who was really guilty, and now he did not 
know how to prevent Pat from being found out. 

“ But Pat ’s four years older than me,” he stammered, 
“ and he ’s not a bit like me ; is he, Winnie ? ” 

His defence, was weak and hesitating, and he scarcely 
dared to look up. 

Mr. Plunkett was looking at him coldly. I quite 
agree with you,” he said. 

As they left the room Frankie hurried to seize Mur- 
tagh’s arm, exclaiming : “-I say. Myrrh, old fellow, what 
a shame ! ” But his mother, contrary to her wont, con- 
tradicted him flatly. 

“You don’t know anything about the matter, Frankie,” 
she said. ’m sure if you were as naughty as your 
cousins it would break my heart. But, indeed, it is 
no wonder,” she continued, addressing the society in 
general, “ considering the way that Mr. Blair treats them. 
A thorough good whipping would do them all the good 
in the world.” 

The remark was uttered on the threshold of the study, 
so Mr. Blair heard it, of course ; but he only looked at 
Nessa with one of his quaint smiles, and asked her to 
come to him after breakfast. 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


207 


CHAPTER XX. 

T he news of the fire had by this time spread all 
over the house, and Rosie and Bobbo were waiting 
in the passage eager to know what was happening in the 
study. They seized upon Murtagh the instant the door 
was shut and inquired what was the matter, but while 
Frankie answered them Murtagh whispered something 
to Winnie. 

“ I ’ll come too ! ” she exclaimed in answer, and push- 
ing the others on one side they ran away together.. 

“ It will all come out now,” said Murtagh despond- 
ingly, as soon as they were out of hearing ; “ and the 
only thing to be done is just to let him know what ’s 
coming.” 

“Yes,” said Winnie with a sigh, and then they ran 
alongside of each other in silence till the O’Tooles’ cabin 
came in sight. 

“ I say. Win, what do you think they ’ll do to him ? ” 
asked Murtagh, stopping to take breath, and feeling, now 
that he was so close, as if he would rather do anything 
than tell Pat he was discovered. 

“ I don’t know,” replied Winnie ; “ something dreadful 
I expect, because you see the fire spread to the house 
and it ’s burnt too. And, Myrrh, I wonder which of the 
children it is that ’s hurt. Supposing it was to die ! ” 
“And it is all our fault ! ” said Murtagh. 

They looked at each other for a moment in silence, 
but the thought was too dreadful ; they could not face 
it. Quickening their footsteps they soon stood within 
the cottage. 

Mrs. O’Toole was crouching over the fire, but she 
started up on their entrance, and they asked at once for 

Pat. 


208 


CASTLE BLAIE. 


“ What is it ye want with Pat ? ” she inquired, by way 
of answer. 

“ We want to talk to him about something ; there ^s no 
time to lose 1 ” replied Murtagh. 

“Sure ye can leave your message with me. Is it 
about them night-lines he was settlin’ for yez?” sug- 
gested Mrs. O’Toole. 

“ No, no,” returned Murtagh impatiently; “I must see 
himself. Is he inside ? ” 

“ Sit down, yer honor, and have a bit of griddle cake,” 
said Mrs. O’Toole, wiping a stool with her apron ; 
“ maybe he ’d be in in a minnit. It ’s the whitest flour 
1 ’ve had this long time.” 

“No, thanks,” replied Murtagh, “we can’t wait; we 
must go and try to find him.” 

Out they went accordingly to the village, where he 
was generally to be found lolling on the grass by the 
roadside, minding the goat and playing marbles. They 
searched a long time in the village and up and down the 
road but they could not find him, and one of his usual 
playmates at last volunteered the information that Pat 
had not been out this morning. Mrs. O’Toole had been 
down herself to milk the goat, and she had told them 
that Pat was ill in bed. 

“ 111 in bed ! ” exclaimed Murtagh. “Then perhaps — 
Oh, Winnie, come along ; we ’d better go back.” 

“ Mrs. O’Toole ! ” he exclaimed, as they once more 
entered the cottage. “ What made you tell us Pat was 
out, when he ’s ill in bed ? ” 

“ Sure, Mr. Murtagh, honey, I never said he was out ; 
heaven forbid ! I only said maybe he ’d be in in a 
minnit.” 

While he was speaking Murtagh crossed over without 
ceremony to the door of the little inner room. But Mrs. 
O’Toole started up and threw herself between him and 
it, exclaiming: 

“Ye can’t go in there, Mr. Murtagh! The place is 
not cleaned up at all. It’s not fit for a gentleman like 
ye!” 


CASTLE BLAIB. 


209 


“ I tell you I must speak to Pat ! ” persisted Murtagh 
with his hand on the latch. 

“But ye mustn’t, Mr. Murtagh, dear!” cried Mrs. 
O’Toole, her voice growing strangely eager and implor- 
ing. “ I tell ye ye musn’t. It ’s the infection he ’s got ; 
he ’s down with the small-pox ! ” 

“As it I cared twopence for the small-pox,” replied 
Murtagh, impetuously bursting open the door as he 
spoke, and springing towards the press bed where Pat 
generally slept. 

But the room was empty! and the bed had not been 
slept in that night. 

Murtagh turned to Mrs. O’Toole more for a confirma- 
tion of his worst fears than for an explanation. But 
she, poor woman, seeing that no concealment was possi- 
ble, had thrown her apron over her head and was rock- 
ing herself backwards and forwards in an agony of tears. 

Tears came to Winnie’s eyes too, as she stood and 
looked at her. There was no need to ask any question ; 
but after a minute Murtagh said, half-reproachfully : 
“You needn’t have told any lies to me, Mrs. O’Toole.” 

“ Oh, Mr. Murtagh, asthore, don’t betray us ! ” was 
her only answer. “ It ’s my only son ; the only one ever 
J had ! ” 

“ Where is he ? ” asked Murtagh, in a choked voice. 

“ He ’s gone away ! He ’s gone away ! ” replied Mrs. 
O’Toole, drawing a bit of paper from her breast. “ Oh, 
Pat, my darlint, whatever made you do it? ” 

Neither Murtagh nor Winnie dared to say a word. 
Murtagh took the bit of paper in silence, and Winnie 
looking over his shoulder read : “Mother, I ’ve done it, 
and I ’m gone away for ever ! Good-by ; God bless ye ! ” 

“ For ever ! for ever ! an’ he was the only one I had,” 
repeated the poor woman. “Oh,” she cried, “ may the 
curse of heaven and hell rest upon him that provoked 
him to it ! They say he bate the boy last night. He ’s 
been a blight an’ a curse upon the country since the day 
he first set foot in it ; but I pray to God Almighty above 
us it may come back upon his own head.” 

14 


210 


CASTLE BLAIB. 


“Oh, don’t,” said Murtagh: “it was all us. And do 
you know,” he added, as the consequences of his tem- 
per pushed themselves one after the other upon his 
mind, “ one of Mr. Plunkett’s children was hurt in the 
fire too ? ” 

“ Know, ay I know,” she replied fiercely. “ It ’s his 
eldest too ; the one they say he do care for a bit ; and 
I ’ve been prayin’ ever since it may die, an’ let him feel 
what it is to be robbed o’ your child. Oh, my Pat ! my 
Pat ! ” she sobbed out, suddenly bursting again into 
tears and forgetting all her fierceness. 

“ Listen,” said Murtagh, in the greatest distress. 
“ Let us think what we are to do. He ’s going to be 
sent for in a minute to be examined. That ’s what we 
came down to tell him.” 

“ Is it discovered already he is ? ” she cried, full .of a 
new fear. “ Oh, if they catch him and bring him back 
to prison ! “ Mr. Murtagh, ye won’t betray us j Miss 

Winnie, asthore ? Ye ’re only children, but ye won’t say 
a word ? ” 

“You needn’t be afraid,” cried Winnie and Murtagh 
together. “They won’t get a word out of us.” 

“ But,” continued Murtagh, “ how will you manage ? ” 

“God bless yez, God bless yez,” she answered warmly. 
And then in a different tone : “ Let me alone for bam- 
boozling the polis if they come here after him. All 
he ’ll want will be a couple of hours. If he gets till this 
evening never a man o’ the polis will lay a hand on 
him.” 

The words were scarcely out of her mouth when a 
shaking of the rickety garden-gate told that some one 
was coming. There were only five or six steps from the 
gate to the cottage, and the next instant Mr. Plunkett 
himself stood upon the threshold. 

The children glanced in despair round the room, 
thinking that the confusion which prevailed would surely 
betray something. But as if by magic everything had 
returned to its usual condition, the bedroom door was 
shut, Mrs O’Toole’s cap put straight, and she was bend- 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


21 1 


in.g over the fire stirring something in a saucepan. The 
children alone were confused, for while they started and 
blushed Mrs. O’Toole said calmly, as though in contin- 
uation of a sentence : 

“I tell you, Mr. Murtagh, honey, he went out early 
to the bog/ with his father to cut peat, an’ the father said 
maybe they ’d be in to dinner and maybe they wouldn’t.” 

“ Are you speaking of your son ? ” inquired Mr. 
Plunkett, looking with suspicion at Murtagh and Win- 
nie. 

Mrs. O’Toole turned round in well-feigned astonish- 
ment at the new voice. She could not altogether repress 
the scowl that gathered upon her face, but she dropped 
a respectful curtsy as she answered : 

“ I am, yer honor.” 

She had said truly enough, that they might let her 
alone for bamboozling whoever came after Pat. She 
had been off her guard when the children came; but 
now Pat was out with his father sure enough, and she 
had such a bad recollection for names, she could not 
rightly call to mind whether it was out Ballybrae way 
he was, or up T^st Armaghbaeg, or maybe it wasn’t 
there at all but up over the hills. But anyway he ’d 
very likely be in to dinner, so it wouldn’t be worth 
sending for him yet awhile till they saw whether he ’d 
be coming. 

Mr. Plunkett felt so convinced that his wife was not 
mistaken in thinking she had seen Murtagh at the fii« 
that he never for a moment supposed Pat guilty, but 
placed ready faith in Mrs. O’Toole’s apparent noncha- 
lance. At the same time, however, he considered it his 
duty to take Pat to Mr. Blair without delay; so he 
said the boy must be sent for at once. 

Mrs. O’Toole was quite equal to the emergency. 
“ There were plenty of idle gossoons in the village,” she 
said, “ who would be glad of a run ; ” and two or three 
lads were sent in different directions with orders from 
Mr. Plunkett to bring Pat home directly. 

They received private instruction from Mrs. O’Toole 


212 


CASTLE BLAIE. 


to wink both eyes if they saw Pat, and if they met 
O’Toole to tell him to keep himself out of the way; 
and it is needless to say whose orders they obeyed. 
Murtagh added that they might take as long as they 
liked to look for him ; and before the afternoon the 
whole village knew that some mystery was on foot. It 
was the general opinion that Murtagh and Pat had 
between them burnt down the contents of Mr. Plun- 
kett’s haggart, and that anyhow no one was to know a 
word about Pat O’Toole. Sympathy was all on the 
boys’ side. And though in the course of the morning 
several of the villagers were examined by Mr. Plunkett, 
nothing could be drawn from them. 

Till Pat was found no further examination of the 
children would take place, but in the mean time Mur- 
tagh and Winnie were very miserable. They hung 
round the house watching the entrances in nervous 
dread lest Pat might after all be caught and brought 
before their uncle. 

Cousin Jane forbade Frankie to speak to them till 
they chose to confess their guilt, and Rosie and Bobbo 
tried in vain to think of comforting things to say. 

The instant they heard the story, Pat’s guilt was as 
clear to them as to the other two, but since Murtagh 
and Winnie said the only thing to be done was to hold 
their tongues, the idea of attempting to clear Murtagh 
did not come_ into any of their minds. Bobbo said it 
was a beastly 'shame, but Murtagh and Winnie replied 
disconsolately that it was really just the same as if they 
had done it themselves ; and as the' others always 
accepted their morals from Murtagh and Winnie, the 
whole school-room took this view. 

At Murtagh’s suggestion Winnie went, after a time, to 
try and get Nessa by herself to warn her against betray- 
ing Pat. But first Nessa was in the study with Mr. 
Blair, and then just as Winnie was going to catch her 
in the passage. Cousin Jane came to the drawing-room 
door with a face full of dismay and beckoned. Winnie 
caught the words, “ doctor,” “ terrible,” “ send at once.’" 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


213 


Nessa’s face became very grave; then the door shut 
upon them both, and the child was left outside full of 
wondering trouble. 

Finding it was useless to wait for Nessa, she returned 
to the others and told what she had heard. The words 
filled them all with vague fear. They did not quite 
know what they dreaded, but they were in a state of 
nervous depression in which everything suggested pain- 
ful possibilities. 

Their apprehensions were soon increased by seeing 
one of the men ride, fast from the stable down the ave- 
nue. The stable was at some distance from the house, 
and before they could reach him to ask what was the 
matter he was out of sight. 

“ He ’s gone for the doctor, I suppose,” said Winnie, 
but they did not dare to go in and ask any questions; 
somehow they felt afraid of everybody to-day. 

At last Nessa came out of the house and began to 
walk across the park. The children hailed her appear- 
ance with relief ; at least they were not afraid of her ; 
and running up to her they asked what was the matter; 
was Frankie ill ? 

“Frankie is ill,” replied Nessa; “Cousin Jane says 
excitement always makes him ill. But we have sent for 
the doctor for Mr. Plunkett’s child ; they say she is 
dying. That pretty golden-haired little girl — the eldest 
of them.” Nessa’s voice was trembling; she remem- 
bered so well the transparent beauty of the child, and 
the loving looks of both father and mother. “ It seems 
a piece of wood fell upon her head when they were 
taking her out of the burning nursery,” she continued. 
“ First she fainted, then she seemed quite, quite well, 
and now the servant who came to find Mr. Plunkett 
says she is dying.” 

A sudden awe fell upon the children. “ Dying ! ” 
They could scarcely believe it. No one had ever died 
in their experience. 

“Oh, Nessa ! ” exclaimed Rosie, but the others were 
all silent. 


214 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


“ Will you come with me ? ” said Nessa, looking at 
their white shocked faces. “ You need not come into 
the house, but you will know. And perhaps you may 
be of use if there are messages.” 

Most gratefully, though silently, the children accepted 
her invitation. At least they would know what was 
happening, and if they were really able to be of use that 
would be something. Anything was better than being 
shut out forgotten in the park. 

At a short distance from the Red House they were 
overtaken by Mr. Plunkett, who with an anxious face 
was walking up swiftly from the village. 

“ David himself has gone for the doctor,” said Nessa, 
“ and if he does not find yours he will ride on at once 
to Ballyboden ; he will not come back without one.” 
Her voice conveyed all the sympathy that she felt. • It 
was not a moment to put it into words. 

But evidently Mr. Plunkett did not yet know of his 
child’s danger. 

What ? ” he said hoarsely, trying to seem unmoved. 

“You have not heard — that she is rather worse?” 
asked Nessa, steadying her voice in order to break the 
news as gently as possible. 

But Mr. Plunkett was not a man to have news broken 
to him. Nessa’s voice, when she first addressed him, 
had told that the doctor had not been lightly sent for, 
and he preferred to know the worst at once. A sort of 
gray color spread over his face. Standing quite still 
before Nessa he seemed to pierce her through with his 
eyes. 

“ Is she dying ? ” he asked. He stood erect as usual. 
He tried to keep his face in the same unrelaxed mold. 
For all his pain he could not bear that these strangers 
should see him suffer. But the cold stern voice was 
strangely broken ; in spite of himself such a dumb 
agony of suspense was in his eyes that Nessa, not dar- 
ing to speak untruly, was moved with sudden sympathy 
to put her hand in his. The touch of her fingers, the 
sorrow in her face, conveyed the answer she could not 
have framed in words. 


CASTLE BLAIB. 


215 


“Not dead? ” he forced his lips to say, while almost 
unconsciously his hand closed tightly upon hers. 

“ No ; oh no,” she answered quickly, “ and the doctor 
will soon be here, perhaps ” 

But he waited for no more. With a few rapid strides 
he was in the house, and Nessa not liking just then to 
enter, remained with the children where he had left her. 

No one spoke ; the children with white awe-stricken 
faces stood looking towards the window, as though they 
expected in that way to find out something of what was 
passing inside. Nessa tried to think if nothing could 
be done to help. Must they wait passively till the 
doctor came ? 

A sudden sound of one of the little Plunketts crying 
helped her to collect her thoughts. Telling the children 
to wait, she went quietly through the blackened door- 
way, and found, as she had expected, the three Plunkett 
babies alone. Their nursery had been burnt, and they 
were drearily trying to play in an empty kitchen. They 
were so hungry, the eldest said, and nobody came with 
their dinner. 

After a few words with the nurse, who passed up the 
stairs and gave her some details of Marion’s condition, 
Nessa took the children out, and told Rosie and Winnie 
to take them home with them for dinner, and to try and 
amuse them for the rest of the day. So at* least the 
house would be quiet, and the poor parents have less to 
think of. Then she told the boys they must get some 
ice. “ I am sure when the doctor comes he will order 
ice for her head,” she said, “and it will be good to have 
it here.” 

Humbly thankful they were to have something to do. 
Murtagh was too miserable now for words, for he had 
had time to remember that this also was his fault. They 
found out from Donnie where they were to go for the 
ice, and then they went to the haggart to get the horse 
and cart. The straw was lying about just as they left 
it. Their hands had pushed the cart into its shed the 
evening before, but Murtagh could hardly believe, as 


2i6 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


they pulled it out, that it was only yesterday they had 
been so happy. Oh, why couldn’t he be good 1 

The way was long; and it was getting late in the 
afternoon when the boys returned to the Little House 
with the ice. They had had no dinner, but they cared 
little for that, and only asked with anxious faces if there 
was nothing else they could do. Nessa understood well 
enough, and she set them to work at once in the garden 
to pound the ice as nearly as possible into powder. 

It was greatly wanted. The doctor had not yet ar- 
rived, and during the early part of the afternoon little 
Marion had got worse and worse. Mrs. Plunkett was 
able to do nothing, but stood at the bottom of the bed 
and wept, while Mr. Plunkett sat with a face of un- 
natural calm, and tried to soothe"* the poor child’s 
ravings with tender words. But at last Nessa had gone 
up and had succeeded in quieting her a little by laying 
wet cloths upon her head. So now with new hope they 
were waiting for the ice. 

Long after it grew dark, though the wind was bitterly 
cold, the two boys still sat in the garden pounding the 
ice, and Nessa came backwards and forwards from the 
house to fetch a bowlful of it as it was wanted, comfort- 
ing their hearts from time to time with an account of 
how little Marion grew quieter and quieter as each cloth 
full of the cold powder was laid upon her head. 

They could not go into the house, for the sound of ^ 
the pounding would have echoed through all the rooms, 
but they worked on, never thinking of the cold or the 
darkness. They felt able to do anything now they had 
a spark of hope. 

After a time Winnie joined them with Royal. Mrs. 
Donegan had put the little Plunketts to bed at the 
house, she said, and she didn’t know where Murtagh was 
or what he was doing, so she had come out to look for 
him. She seemed very disconsolate, but the boys were 
cheered now with their work and the better accounts of 
Marini; so they told what they were doing, and Bobbo 
groped about till he found a big stone for her to pound 


CASTLE BLAin. 


■ziy 


with too. Then she knelt down beside them and worked 
away, while Royal, with some wonderful instinct of their 
trouble, stretched himself out upon the ground and lay 
patiently watching the three children. 

In the house, too, hope was beginning to revive. 
Mrs. Plunkett had been persuaded to lie down, and worn 
out with weeping she had fallen asleep, while Mr. 
Plunkett, seeing that Nessa’s simple remedy had some 
effect, concentrated himself upon applying it. No one 
else touched Marion. His hardness had completely 
vanished, and tenderly as a woman he did for her 
everything that she needed. Nessa, seeing how he liked 
to do it, kept in the background, only preparing what 
was needful, and bringing it to him in order that he 
might remain always by the child’s bedside. 

So the evening wore away, till at last the rumble of 
wheels announced that the doctor was coming. Royal 
was the first to hear the welcome sound, -and a low growl 
from him announced it to the children. 

“ Now we shall know,” said Murtagh ; and with eager 
expectation they watched the doctor walk up the path. 
Winnie ran to the door and begged Nessa to let them 
know quickly what he said, but it seemed to them a long, 
long time before any one came. 

They could see three dark shadows sometimes on the 
blind of the room where Marion lay, and though they 
tried to go on with their work the ice often numbed their 
fingers as they absently held a lump in their hands and 
gazed up for some sign of Nessa coming. After one of 
those long looks Murtagh had just begun pounding 
again, when suddenly the door opened, and the doctor’s 
voice called cheerily from the blaze of light that 
streamed out over the steps : “ Where are you, my young 
workers? Your ice has saved her life.” 

Till those words lifted the load off their hearts, the 
children scarcely knew how heavy it had been. 

“ She won’t die ? ” said Murtagh, eagerly springing to 
the bottom of the steps. 

“No, no,” replied the doctor; “not now if she has 
the same nursing through the night.” 


2I8 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


“ I thought somehow she couldn’t die,” said Bobbo, 
standing up and rubbing his cramped legs. Winnie 
expressed her feelings by flinging her arms round Royal’s 
neck, and giving him an ecstatic squeeze. Then Nessa 
appeared behind the doctor, and joined her assurance 
to his. 

She was to stay and spend the night with Marion, but 
the doctor insisted on driving the children home in his 
gig. He was a tender-hearted man, who had a lot of 
merry little brothers and sisters at home, and the idea 
of children being so troubled as these was to him unnatu- 
ral. It would have disturbed him to think of them 
after he got home, so as they drove along he made light 
of Marion’s danger, and talked and laughed with them, 
till by the time they reached the house they were in 
quite a bright mood. 

After the doctor left them they stopped on the steps 
to bid Royal good-night, and kneeling down beside him 
Winnie said : 

“ We ’ve been very miserable to-day, Royal ; very 
miserable ; but it is wonderful how things always come 
right after. They always do. Royal ; so if ever you ’re 
miserable you can remember that.” 

Royal looked solemnly at her as though he understood 
every word, but as she finished he put a paw upon each 
of her shoulders and by way of answer gravely licked 
her face. 

Bobbo burst out laughing, and the others followed his 
example. 

“ Oh, Royal dear, you are a darling ! ” cried Winnie. 
And Cousin Jane, passing through the hall to bed, 
overheard them, and remarked to Emma that she never 
would have believed children could be so heartless as to 
be laughing and playing with the dog when that poor 
little girl might be lying dead through their wickedness. 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


219 


CHAPTER XXL 

M URTAGH slept late next morning, and he was 
wakened by Winnie who wanted him to get up 
and come and inquire about Pat. Anxiety about Marion 
had made him completely forget Pat, but now that 
trouble returned upon him in full force. He got up and 
went with Winnie to see Mrs. O’Toole. But nothing 
had been heard of Pat, and between her longing to see 
the boy and dread lest the police should find him Mrs. 
O’Toole was in terrible grief. The children could give 
her no comfort, and they wandered sadly back to the 
house. 

Frankie was in bed, but Cousin Jane came and told 
them they might go in and see him. He had set his 
heart upon seeing them, and she could not refuse when 
he was ill. She begged they would not put any of their 
hardened notions into his head, but they were too glad 
of being able to see Frankie to care for anything Cousin 
Jane said. 

He welcomed them delightedly, eager to know what 
they had done yesterday. Anything that concerned 
them was always of the deepest interest to him. He was 
too delicate ever to have any adventures* of his own. 
His mother and Emma were his only companions, and 
all the romance of his life was centred in Murtagh and 
Winnie. 

There was something very touching in the almost 
woishipful admiration with which he regarded them. 
He thought them nearly perfect, and if he had ever had 
a dream for himself it would have been to be like 
Murtagh, and to do the things Murtagh did. Only he 
never dreamt anything for himself ; perhaps, poor little 


22C 


CASTLE BLATU, 


fellow, it did not seem to him worth while. And if he 
had no visions for his own future he made up for it by 
the fertility of imagination with which he planned out 
Murtagh’s. Everything that most boys determine to do, 
when they are grown up, he used to lay plans for Mur- 
tagh to do. He would often lie for hours upon the sofa, 
picturing to himself Murtagh walking up before assem- 
bled rows of school-boys to receive impossible numbers 
of first prizes; Murtagh winning cricket-matches, or 
Murtagh leading troops to battle. There was no 
wonderful feat in history that Murtagh had not outdone 
many a time in Frankie’s ambitious imagination. 

Sometimes in his pictures he saw Winnie walking or 
riding by Murtagh’s side ; but himself never. He forgot 
his life in theirs. Visits to Castle Blair constituted the 
happiest part of his existence. So it was no wonder that 
he was full of eager sympathy for his two cousins in their 
present trouble. 

Troubled as Murtagh and Winnie were at their share 
in this misfortune, it was very soothing to their sore 
consciences to talk with Frankie. His ideas of right and 
wrong used to become very confused where Winnie and 
Murtagh were concerned. All he thought about was 
how best to comfort them, and in the end he invariably 
succeeded in proving, to his own satisfaction at least, 
that they had been perfectly right. 

They used to talk more of what they really thought 
with Frankie than children generally do together; more 
indeed than they did even to one another; and they 
confided to him now, in their own odd scrappy fashion, 
the sore regrets by which they were assailed. 

With all his goodwill, even Frankie was puzzled to 
reconcile their resolutions on the mountain with the 
scene in the haggart that so closely followed them. But 
then he said that Mr. Plunkett was so nasty nobody 
could help being rude to him (Frankie had never been 
rude to any one in his life) ; and, of course, they couldn’t 
possibly know that one of the followers would go and 
set fire to his haystacks. The whole misfortune, he 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


221 


finally declared, was as much owing to Mr. Plunkett as 
to them. , He would go out and be disagreeable when 
Nessa told him they were excited. It was all his own 
fault ; and then he could not be contented without 
making false accusations, and trying to get Murtagh into 
trouble. 

But Murtagh was not easily to be comforted, and 
perhaps Frankie had himself some misgivings as to the 
strength of his arguments, for he exerted himself to 
divert Murtagh’s thoughts into another channel. 

“ Never mind. Myrrh, dearj” he said, “ Marion will 
soon be well now, and I daresay they ’ll never find out 
which of your followers did it. Next week we shall all 
three be down at the seaside, far away, where you ’ll 
never see Mr. Plunkett nor be worried with his rules. 
There will be nobody to order you about there. We will 
all do just whatever we please, and this whole affair will 
be forgotten by the time you come back.” 

Then he launched out into enthusiastic descriptions of 
the place to which they were going; and -in the interest 
of planning how they would spend the days when they 
got there the children were by degrees drawn into for- 
getting Pat, Marion, Mr. Plunkett, and everything 
connected with the fire. After a time they called in 
Royal, and Frankie made him display his various ac- 
complishments. Bobbo and Rosie joined them later in 
the day, and so they forgot to be unhappy for nearly the 
whole afternoon. 

Nessa, in the mean time, had spent her day at the 
Red House, but Marion was now quite out of danger, 
and towards four o’clock she prepared to return home. 

Mr. Plunkett would not let her walk alone, and as 
they went together across the park he took the oppor- 
tunity of thanking her warmly for all that she had done. 
The doctor had told him that without her timely help 
Marlon might have died, and he was not a man to be 
ungrateful for any real obligation. 

It was one of those moments of unreserve ‘that come 
sometimes after a heavy strain. 


22 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


“ You may think me hard and cold,” he said, “ but 

Marion is to me more ” Then strong as he was his 

voice faltered. He seemed for one moment to realize 
all that he had so nearly lost, and instead of words 
there came only an inarticulate choking sound. He 
recovered himself immediately, but he did not try to 
finish his sentence. Then he allowed himself to be 
drawn on by Nessa’s genuine admiration of his child to 
talk of her, and to describe some of her pretty ways : 
till Nessa, talking with him freely and pleasantly as she 
would have talked with any one else, found herself won- 
dering how she could ever have thought him so very 
disagreeable. 

But as they emerged from under the trees and came 
in sight of the house his voice suddenly changed, and 
he exclaimed : 

“ Can you wonder then that I am determined to 
punish to the uttermost the heartless spite that^ in 
revenge for a just rebuke could imperil such innocent 
lives ? You, Miss Blair, a stranger, can have little con- 
ception of all that we have been forced to suffer from 
Murtagh and his brother and sisters, but now it passes 
a matter of inconvenience. Impertinence and annoy- 
ance I could and would have endured, but to have my 
child hurt, to have her life, her reason endangered, to 

gratify the caprice of an insolent boy ” Mr. 

Plunkett’s words were coming out fiercely, and he 
stopped suddenly as though not trusting himself to 
finish his sentence. 

He was transformed; he was no longer the correct 
Mr. Plunkett that Nessa knew. His face was pale, his 
eyes full of a strange light ; he was a man, — a man 
struggling with a violent emotion. 

“ But you cannot, you do not think still that Murtagh 
set fire to your house?” she exclaimed, standing still 
and looking up anxiously into his face. “ It was not' 
Murtagh ; I know it was not.” 

“ You think you know. Miss Blair, but you are mis- 
taken. I have known the boy longer than you, and I 
tell you he is guilty.” 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


223 


“ You did not see him on Wednesday evening after 
that scene with you,” said Nessa, “and you did not see 
him yesterday, or you could not think that He was so 
sorry for you yesterday, and so anxious to help. If you 
had seen his white sad face you could not think it was 
a pretence. Examine that other boy, and you will see 
that Murtagh is not guilty.” 

Mr. Plunkett had recovered now his usual demeanor. 
He replied quietly: “I cannot agree with you, Miss 
Blair ; I am perfectly willing that young O’Toole should 
be examined, but you have only to count up the evi- 
dences of Murtagh’s guilt to be yourself convinced of 
the uselessness of the proceeding ; his presence at the 
fire ; his confusion on finding himself discovered ; his 
inability to answer any of the charges made against 
him.” 

As they walked on again towards the house, he con- 
tinued in a calm dispassionate voice : “ Directly he left 
his uncle’s presence he rushed off to O’Toole’s cottage. 
What could he have wanted there if not to beg Pat to 
keep his secret safe "i His very anxiety about my poor 
child is only another reason for believing him guilty. 
He dislikes me ; he has no affection for her ; and I 
cannot believe he would have displayed such excessive 
anxiety had he not been smitten with remorse and 
terror at the consequences of his act. If he had come 
forward and confessed openly, instead of allowing the 
blame to be half-shifted on to another, I might have 
entertained some softer feeling towards him, but as it is 
I feel nothing but a just anger and contempt. He has 
shown himself not only revengeful but cowardly and 
dishonorable.” 

Mr. Plunkett had only seen one side, and that the 
worst, of Murtagh’s character. Upon that he based his 
judgment, and it was perfectly impossible to him to 
enter into the very different view which Nessa took of 
the same facts. In vain she pleaded Murtagh’s cause. 
Mr. Plunkett had covered himself again with his usual 
shell, and words had no effect. 


224 


CASTLE BLAIE. 


At last almQst indignant she appealed to justice. 
“You ought to believe he is speaking the truth till 
you are quite sure he is not,” she said. “You have 
not yet made any search among the people in the 
country.” 

But that was as useless as the rest. “ It is impos- 
sible for me to believe he is speaking the truth,” he 
answered shortly. “I am willing that every inquiry 
should be made, but I am perfectly convinced of his 
guilt, and so long as he remains hardened in denial 
he must expect nothing but the utmost severity from 
me.” 

Those were his parting words. They had reached 
the gravel sweep that divided the park from the house, 
and he bowed and left her. 

As she entered the hall she met Murtagh, who had 
been watching her from Frankie’s window, and who 
now came running down to know how little Marion 
was. 

“Better,” said Nessa, “much better;” but she was 
thinking of her conversation v.dth Mr. Plunkett, and her 
voice was not in accordance with her news. 

“ You ’re dreadfully tired, aren’t you ? ” said Murtagh. 

“Yes,” said Winnie, who had followed him down; 
“ of course she must be after being up all night. Come 
along. Myrrh, we ’ll get her some tea. And you go and 
lie down in your room/’ she added, holding one of 
Nessa’s hands for a moment in both of hers, and laying 
her cheek against it. 

“Thank you,” said Nessa, stooping to kiss the little 
brown forehead. “ Yes, I should like some tea.” And 
as the two children ran away to the kitchen she passed 
up the stairs. 

A few minutes later they appeared in her room with 
their little tray. They had arranged it after their 
own fashion, with a white napkin and a tiny blue vase 
full of flowers. Winnie’s cheeks were rosy with the 
making of toast, and while Nessa drank her tea and 
admired the flowers the two children watched her 
radiantly. 


CASTLE BLAIB. 


225 


“We made it all ourselves,” exclaimed Winnie when 
the first cup was nearly finished. “ Donnie wasn’t there, 
but we knew the water was boiling, because the top of 
the kettle was bobbing up and down.” Nessa asked for 
a second cup, and the delighted children were as happy 
as little kings because she found their tea so good. 


CHAPTER XXII. 

M r. PLUNKETT meant what he had said to Nessa. 

Convinced of Murtagh’s guilt he was resolved to 
bring him to just punishment, and that without delay. 
Next day, therefore, he begged Mr. Blair to continue his 
investigation. Poor Mr. Blair, who had completely ac- 
cepted Nessa’s view, took no longer the slightest interest 
in the affair. Provided it was not Murtagh he did not 
care in the very least who was guilty. All he desired 
was to be left in peace. 

However, since Mr. Plunkett was not satisfied, and 
since Mr. Plunkett had a strong will to which Mr. Blair 
was accustomed to yield, there was nothing for it but to 
send for Pat O’Toole and sift the matter to the bottom. 
Marion’s illness had diverted all attention from Pat, and 
his absence was as yet undiscovered. Mr. Plunkett 
sent a message to him to appear; Mrs. O’Toole put off the 
inevitable announcement of his flight to the last 
moment; and it was not till every one else was 
assembled in the study that it became known that he 
was gone. 

The news was received by Mr. Blair and Nessa as a 
simple proof of Murtagh’s innocence. In their eyes 
nothing more was needed, and they expected that Mr. 
Plunkett would now be convinced of his mistake. But 
Mr. Plunkett held his own opinion much too firmly to be 
easily shaken in it. 

15 


226 


CASTLE BLAIB. 


He believed that his wife had seen Murtagh at the 
fire, and he said, natuially, that Pat’s flight did not 
actually prove him guilty, and that even had it done so, 
Murtagh’s innocence was not thereby established. The 
two boys were known to be friends, and what was more 
likely than that Murtagh should have chosen Pat as an 
accomplice? It was evident that they had some secret 
together, since Murtagh’s first action after the news of 
the fire had been made known was to run away to the 
O’Tooles’ cottage. 

“ He will hardly venture to deny this,” added Mr. 
Plunkett, “for I saw him there myself with Winnie. 
And young O’Toole had not gone then, for I overheard 
the mother telling Murtagh that her son was on the bog 
with his father.” 

When the news of Pat’s flight had arrived Murtagh 
had felt a grim satisfaction at the prospect of Mr. Plun- 
kett’s discomfiture, thinking like Nessa that his own 
innocence was now fully established. It seemed to him 
so plain that he couM not imagine how different the case 
might seem to Mr. Plunkett ; and now as he stood 
listening to the array of evidence brought forward to 
prove his guilt, a turmoil of bitter indignation raged 
within him. 

All that Frankie had said the day before came back 
to his mind, and every bit of sorrow for his own fault was 
swallowed up in angry rebellion against what seemed to 
him willful injustice. He could not believe that Mr. 
Plunkett did not in his heart know that he was innocent. 
Stung to the quick, he took a proud, unreasoning deter- 
mination to say not one word in his own defence, and 
after the first stormy flash that overspread his counte- 
nance, he stood with eyes cast down and a white obdurate 
face that defied all questioning. 

It was not so with Winnie. Through her indignation 
and disgust a dim suspicion, which she had herself 
rejected before, flashed suddenly into belief. Mr. Plun- 
kett was doing it on purpose. He did not really believe 
Murtagh guilty, but he had a spite against him for what 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


227 


had happened in the haggart, and this was his mean 
way of revenging himself. 

Her cheeks flamed, and her eyes flashed with indig- 
nation ; but it was not her way to speak in passionate 
gusts as Murtagh did, so she clasped her hands on the 
back of her head, and waited till Mr. Plunkett wound 
up a somewhat elaborate argument by asking every one 
in the room to decide whether he had not good grounds 
for believing Murtagh to be guilty. 

Then before any one could answer, she said in a cool 
aggravating voice : 

“Yes, I daresay, if we didn’t all know you’re doing 
this just because you have a spite against Murtagh.” 

“Well!” exclaimed Cousin Jane, “these children are 
allowed to talk in the funniest way I ever heard.” 

“ I don’t see why things shouldn’t be fair,” returned 
Winnie. “ Mr. Plunkett keeps on telling us we are 
telling lies, and why mayn’t we tell him the same "i If 
you won’t believe what Murtagh says I don’t see why 
you should believe what Mr. Plunkett says. Mr. Plun- 
kett says Murtagh did this because of what happened in 
the haggart, but it ’s a great deal more likely Mr. Plun- 
kett ’s trying to get Murtagh into a scrape to revenge 
himself for what happened. Just as if Murtagh would 
ever bother his head to be revenged on anybody like 
him I ” 

The supreme scorn of the last words was unmistak- 
able, and Mr. Blair, in some astonishment, said with 
quiet dignity: “Winnie, that seems a strange way to 
speak to Mr. Plunkett. Every one who knows him 
knows that nothing could be more impossible to him.” 

“ The idea of children talking like that to a grown-up 
person ! ” remarked Cousin Jane. 

“ That ’s always the way,” cried Winnie, her pent-up 
wrath bursting forth at last. “Just because we are 
children we ’re to hold our tongues and let people say 
what they like to us, and tell all sorts of lies about our 
doing things we didn’t do ; and then if we say a word 
about them doing a thousand times worse things we ’re 


228 


CASTLE BLAIE. 


told to be quiet. But I don’t care what five hundred ' 
million grown-up people say, Murtagh didn’t do this, 
and Mr. Plunkett knows he didn’t just as well as I do.” 

Mr. Blair looked af her in still greater surprise. He 
thought little girls were quiet and obedient. He had 
not the slightest idea what to do or say in reply ; but at 
last, with a sort of instinct that it would be safest to 
have her near Nessa, he said : 

“You may go and sit down now, my dear; Nessa will 
make room for you I daresay on the sofa beside her.” 

He glanced over at Nessa as he spoke with such a 
comical expression of despair that they both nearly 
laughed, to Cousin Jane’s intense indignation. 

Mr. Blair, however, became grave again at once, and 
turned to Mr. Plunkett to listen to all the reasons he 
was urging in favor of some serious punishment being 
inflicted upon Murtagh. Mr. Plunkett was very much 
in earnest upon this matter. He had thought of it a 
great deal, and he was determined to make an example 
of Murtagh which none of the other children should 
forget. His manner was perhaps more than usually cold 
and business-like, but his ordinary brevity was laid aside, 
and he spoke at some length. Too courteous to inter- 
rupt, Mr. Blair listened patiently till he had ceased 
speaking. But then instead of at once answering Mr. 
Plunkett, he turned to Murtagh and said : 

“ Murtagh, will you give me your word of honor that 
you were not at this fire, and that you did not in any 
way wilfully cause it ? ” 

Murtagh had stood immovable while Mr. Plunkett 
w-’s speaking; but his anger was at all times easy to 
melt, and there was a ring of trust and friendliness in 
his uncle’s tone which made him look up straight into 
Mr. Blair’s face with bright fearless eyes and answer at 
once : 

“Yes; I give you my word of honor.” 

“ I believe you, my boy ! ” replied Mr. Blair. 

The clouds vanished from Murtagh’s face, and with a 
clear sunny smile he looked across to Nessa for her 
congratulations. 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


229 


Winnie and Bobbo started up and clapped their hands, 
while Bobbo with a beaming countenance said : “ I knew 
it would all come right in the end.” 

“ Plunkett,” said Mr. Blair, “ I feel how much truth 
there is in all you say, and if I could for a moment 
believe Murtagh guilty I would leave it to you to decide 
his punishment. But though you have certainly evidence 
enough to justify an opinion, you do not prove his guilt, 
and I cannot help thinking that the presumptive evidence 
on the other side is strong enough to make it only just 
to Murtagh that we should believe him when he assures 
us on his word of honor that he is innocent.” With his 
mind’s eye Mr. Blair saw his study already empty and 
himself at leisure to return to his books, and his voice 
was cheerful in proportion. Mr. Plunkett was too much 
annoyed to be able altogether to retain his calm de- 
meanor. 

“ Well,” he replied, “ I have nothing more to say. Tf 
you are content upon such an investigation to declare 
Murtagh innocent the household will, of course, consider 
him so ; but for my part I state openly here that I believe 
him to be guilty, and that I shall continue so to do till 
some other person confesses to having committed the 
crime without his help or instigation.” 

“Believe away!” retorted Winnie. “Nobody cares 
in the least what you think I ” 

“ Winnie,” said her uncle, “ Mr. Plunkett is an old 
and respected friend of mine.” ^ 

Mr. Blair so seldom spoke to one of the children that 
even Winnie’s audacious tongue was silenced by the 
reproof. 

“ I am very sorry, Plunkett,” continued Mr. Blair, 
“that we cannot persuade you, but still I can’t help 
Hoping that when you think the matter over you will 
come round to our opinion.” 

' “Nothing ever will persuade me,” returned Mr. Plun- 
kett, “ and Murtagh’s guilty conscience can best tell him 
the reason why.” 

With those words he took ujd his hat and left the room 


230 


CASTLE BLAITt. 


The children were very little disturbed by his opinion. 
Murtagh’s innocence was established, and that was all 
they cared about. They flocked round Murtagh, and 
carried him off with many expressions of pleasure. 

But Cousin Jane was no better satisfied than Mr. 
Plunkett. She was at all times ready to find fault with 
these children. 

She had established a sort of rivalry in her mind 
between them and Frankie. Frankie’s delicacy was a' 
hard trial to her. She watched over him with a faithful 
solicitude equalled by few mothers, but she could not 
hide from herself that he grew no stronger, rather 
weaker. He was not like other bo3’s ; he could not run 
and jump ; he could not even laugh much without being 
very tired; and Cousin Jane felt in some way aggrieved 
at every sign of Murtagh’s overflowing health and spirits. 
Frankie was the natural heir to all his uncle’s estates; 
the dream of his mother’s life since he had been born 
was to see him master of Castle Blair; and the thought 
that perhaps he might die and Murtagh inherit in his 
stead haunted her continually, till at times she almost 
hated Murtagh. 

Then she disapproved very much of Mr. Blair. He 
was to her quite incomprehensible. Never opening a 
book herself, she could not understand the magnetic 
attraction of book-shelves for Mr. Blair. According to 
her views of human responsibility it was perfectly sinful 
of him to shut himself up in the library with musty old 
parchments and rubbishing stones, and leave his beau- 
tiful place to take care of itself. If he pretended to 
despise such things for his own sake he ought to think 
of his heirs ; it was not just to them. 

So Cousin Jane reasoned, and when she disliked any 
one she disliked everything they did. She had disap- 
proved in the beginning of Launcelot’s children coming 
to live with their uncle at all, and now they were here 
she disapproved as highly of the way they were treated. 
Mr. Plunkett was the only person on the estate who had 
any idea how things should be managed, or who in any 


CASTLE BLAIB. 


231 


way looked after Frankie’s interests, and to him Cousin 
Jane used to pour out all her grievances. 

It was not surprising, therefore, that in this instance 
she was ready to accept Mr. Plunkett’s opinion of Mur- 
tagh’s guilt. She had said from the first that she was 
sure the boy was guilty, and when once an idea got 
firmly fixed in her head no power of argument or demon- 
stration could move it. Nessa soon discovered this, and 
after politely trying for some time to persuade her to see 
that Murtagh was practically proved to be innocent, she 
left her to her own opinion and escaped gladly to the 
children. 

Nessa and Royal and the children spent a happy 
afternoon together. Frankie was better again that day, 
and was able to be out with them ; all their troubles 
were over and gone — gone so completely that they even 
seemed not to remember them as they raced and romped 
upon the grass with Royal. He was a splendid dog, — 
big and broad-chested, but agile as Winnie herself. And 
he enjoyed the fun of playing. When he rolled the 
children over on the grass, and their peals of happy 
laughter shook the air, you could almost fancy he was 
laughing too. He sprang backwards and forwards from 
one child to another, his great black tail whisking about 
in the air; but though he rolled them over without 
ceremony he was thoroughly gentle ; he would not have 
hurt them for all the world. Even little Ellie, after a 
first terrified rush into Nessa’s arms, soon discovered 
that “ she wasn’t afraid.” 

She demonstrated the fact by clutching the big black 
head and trying to poke her little fingers into his eyes 
every time he gave her the opportunity. But he perhaps 
understood that she was a baby, for he submitted with 
perfect good humor, only springing away from her when 
he had had enough, with a suddenness that sent her 
sitting down plump upon the moss each time. The first 
time it happened she looked around with comic surprise, 
not quite sure whether to laugh or to cry. Then she 
picked herself up and ran after him, screaming out in 


232 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


delight when the operation was repeated : “ Oh, it is 
such fun ! Oh, Ellie do tink it is such fun ! ” 

Then when they grew tired of romping they came 
and sat on Nessa’s rug under the chestnut-tree, and 
Royal, curled up near VVinnie, laid his great muzzle on 
his forepaws and went to sleep. The white ducks came 
waddling one by one from the terrace, and Winnie in- 
sisted upon introducing them each by name to Nessa 
as she fed them with scraps of hard bread from her 
pocket. 

Nessa was not skilled in the varieties of form and 
complexion that distinguish white ducks, and though the 
children all laughed incredulously at her blindness she 
was forced to declare that she could see no difference 
between King, and Senior, and Ruffle, and Nigger. 
Her education was evidently defective, and they set to 
work to complete it without delay. 

“ Do you mean to say now, for instance,’’ asked Win- 
nie, with the compassionate air of one who puts an easy 
question to a beginner, “ that you could mistake that 
poor sniffling little Snatch for Senior ? ” 

But Nessa was hopelessly ignorant. 

“ Which is Snatch ? ” she asked, stretching out her 
hand to the one who stood nearest to her. “ Is it this 
one ? ” 

“ Why, that ’s King,” said Murtagh, the very head of 
them all. And all the children laughed; it seemed to 
them really funny that any one should know so little 
about white ducks. 

Nessa laughed too, and Winnie said : “That ’s Snatch 
with the pale pink bill, — the one that looks as if he was 
always blowing his nose. We call him Snatch because 
he never snatches anything.” 

An excellent reason, no doubt, but * Nessa laughed 
again. 

“ And then he ’s always in every one’s way,” added 
Winnie. 

“ Or at least he ’s always being pushed out of every 
one ’s way,” said Murtagh. “ I suppose it ’s the same 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


^233 


thing.” And Murtagh took a bit of bread from Winnie 
and threw it across her to poor Snatch. But Royal, the 
rogue, whom every one thought asleep, suddenly lifted 
his head and — Snap ! Gulp ! he had caught the bread, 
swallowed it, and settled to sleep again, while Snatch 
looked stupidly round to see where it had gone. How 
the children laughed, and Royal all the time peeped 
slily through his eyelashes to watch for another bit 
coming his way. 

So they chattered and laughed all the afternoon, and 
fed Royal, and the ducks, and the pigeons too, who 
came. cooing and pluming themselves, and walked about 
in such a dignified fuss, picking all manner of scraps 
out of the grass. And when, for Frankie’s sake, they 
had to go in, though Nessa left them to rejoin Cousin 
Jane, they gathered round the school-room fire and 
chattered and laughed all the same, and laid plans for 
what they would do when they got away to Torquay 
with Frankie. 

He was so happy in the prospect, poor little fellow ! 
He had not played to-day; he had lain on the rug 
beside Nessa; but he quite forgot that. He felt as 
though he had been playing too, and with faintly flushed 
cheeks and sparkling eyes he sat curled up on the sofa 
listening in delight. 

“ Why, of course, you ’ll be able to swim like two . 
fishes before you come back,” he was acquiescing in 
answer to a remark of Murtagh’s, when the door opened 
and Emma came in. The room was dark now, and the 
children thought it was Nessa. 

“ Do you hear, Nessa.? ” cried Winnie. “We intend 
to learn to swim at Torquay, and to swim all about the 
sea into the caves and places where nobody has ever 
been before.” 

“It’s time for you to come and dress for dinner, 
Frankie,” replied Emma’s voice; “and,” she added 
with some primness as Frankie rose reluctantly from the 
sofa, “you had better not make too many plans for 
Torquay.” 


234 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


She turned and left the room as she spoke, but 
Frankie sprang after her, exclaiming : “ Emma, what do 
you mean about Torquay ? ” and her answer was quite 
audible as she walked down the passage. 

“ I mean that of course mamma will not allow Mur- 
tagh to be your only playmate for so many months if he 
persists in telling such stories. There is no knowing 
what he might teach you.’' 

Murtagh’s cheek flushed as he heard the words, and 
from the other children arose a chorus of : 

“ What a shame ! ” 

“It can’t be tiue!” 

“ There ’s something else we have to thank Mr. Plun- 
kett for ! ” 

“ It ’s wicked and unjust,” cried Winnie. “ He 
knows as well as I do that you didn’t do it. I don’t 
know how he can dare to pretend he doesn’t. It’s 
enough to drive one mad ; but there ’s one thing. 
Myrrh, if you don’t go, I won’t; Cousin Jane needn’t 
think I will.” 

“ It ’s not true ; it ’s only Emma’s rubbish,” decided 
Bobbo. 

“Let us go and ask Nessa,” said Murtagh, with a 
curious kind of quietness in his voice, and while the 
others dashed off impatiently to Nessa’s room he, 
thrusting his hands into his pockets, walked slowly 
after them. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

I T was^only too true. It was difficult to say with whom 
the idea had first originated, but after much talking 
with Emma and Mr. Plunkett, Cousin Jane had an- 
nounced that she could not take Murtagh with her 
unless he were ready to confess his guilt. Mr. Blair was 
annoyed, but there was no help for it. It was true that 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


235 


Murtagh had not been altogether proved innocent. He 
could not be till Pat was found, and till he was everybody 
had of course a right to their own opinion. / 

The children were bitterly indignant, but Murtagh still 
said nothing. The injustice seemed to him at first too 
impossible to be true ; and when he realized that it was 
true, the feelings it roused against Mr. Plunkett,, were 
such he would have found it difficult to express. A sort 
of astonished contempt filled his mind. He had not 
thought before that Mr. Plunkett could be so bad as 
that, and if at times the thought of his disappointment 
roused in him hot indignation, this new feeling of sheer 
disgust made him shrink from even thinking much of 
Mr. Plunkett. 

Frankie’s disappointment was beyond expression. 
For perhaps the first time in his life he behaved like the 
spoilt child he was. He would not go to the sea at all, 
he said, or if he did he wouldn’t take a bit of trouble to 
get well. He had set his heart on having his cousin 
with him, and his mother vainly proposed instead com- 
panion after companion. He didn’t care for any of them, 
he said, and all the pleasure of his winter was gone. 

Cousin Jane was one of those people who rarely 
understand the consequences of what they do, and she 
was greatly disturbed by Frankie’s trouble. She had 
intended to punish Murtagh, not Frankie, and it had 
seemed to her quite simple to take Bobbo in Murtagh’s 
place. But Bobbo and Winnie declared at once that 
they would not go anywhere with people who said Mur- 
tagh told stories, and when Cousin Jane appealed to 
Mr. Blair, he replied that he thought they had a right to 
decide for themselves. 

In despair at her son’s trouble Cousin Jane would 
liave been glad to change her mind and say that Mur- 
tagh might come, but Mr. Plunkett and Emma both 
urged her to be firm. Mr. Plunkett alone would not 
perhaps have had sufficient influence, but she was 
accustomed to be ruled by Emma, and Emma was very 
determined. 


236 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


Poor Cousin Jane! — it was a hard fate which hnd 
taken away her husband. Nature had intended her to 
have always some one to lean upon ; and who can say 
how much happier her life would have been had she had 
a tenderer and more trustworthy counsellor than her 
sharp and accomplished daughter ! 

Frankie locked himself into his room and would not 
see anybody. His poor bewildered mother made herself 
wretched with thinking how ill he would be after such 
excitement, and finally retired almost in tears to her own 
room, declaring that she had never met such children, 
and that she wished she had never come to Castle Blaii 
to be mixed up in all this trouble. Every one felt dreary 
and uncomfortable, and the children wandered disconso- 
lately about the house, muttering their opinions- of Mr. 
Plunkett, and wishing aloud that it wasn’t Sunday, till 
Nessa suggested that they should go and pay their 
weekly visit to Mrs. Daly. 

Anything to do was better than nothing, so they 
readily agreed; and when Nessa had them all to herself 
out of doors she soon succeeded in gently drawing their 
thoughts away from the subject which engrossed them. 

She and Mrs. Donegan had been concocting certain 
plans for the benefit of Mrs. Daly and one or two other 
people in the village, and Nessa communicated them to 
the children. Falling readily into their notion of being 
bound up into a tribe, she suggested how "nice it would 
be if the tribe could be of real use in the village, and 
the children, delighted to see a grown-up person enter- 
ing seriously into a project which they had tried hard to 
persuade themselves was serious, were hearty in their 
acc rptance of her proposals. 

Wild, fierce little things as they seemed, they were 
something like lambs in lion’s clothing. They were up 
in arms directly, and stormed like staunch little Home 
Rulers, as they were, at anything they considered unjust, 
but the slightest appeal to their sympathy was enough 
to make them forget all about themselves. 

The walk was quite pleasant, and it was delightful to 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


237 


find Mrs. Daly sitting up in the sunshine, looking 
already much better for the wholesome dinner with 
which Nessa and Donnie provided her every day. After 
that they paid a very different visit ; they went to see 
Mrs. O’Toole. The poor woman was in bitter grief, 
and she could not be comforted. An inadvertent men- 
tion of Mr. Plunkett’s name suddenly roused a storm of 
rage that made Nessa turn pale and tremble, but the 
passionate abandonment of grief that followed would 
^ have moved to tears a harder heart than hers. Her 
sweet shy words of comfort were of little use. And 
when the children spoke hopefully of Pat being found 
and coming back, the poor mother cried out with a 
despairing wail : “ An’ that ’ll be the worst of all ; oh, 
my heart ’s broken ! my heart ’s broken ! ” ^ 

They had forgotten for the moment that if he came 
back it would be to come to prison. So they had to 
leave her in her desolation, and very sadly, very wearily " 
the children went back to the house. How much of it 
all was their fault ? 

But Nessa had promised Mrs. Plunkett to go to the 
Red House that afternoon to see little Marion, so she 
left them to pay her visit. 

She was not the only visitor at the Red House. 
Cousin Jane was there, and was there for no less a 
purpose than to see with Mr. Plunkett whether after all 
she could not take Murtagh with her. 

Her mind was so divided between two opinions that 
she could not remain firm in either. She was in a most 
uncomfortable strait. Accustomed for years to use 
Emma as her brain she was in the habit of taking for 
granted that Emma’s opinion was right, and with a 
simplicity and abnegation of self that would have been 
touching had they not been so fraught with mischief, she 
did always what Emma told her. 

But though she. was devoted to both her children, 
though she admired and respected Emma’s cleverness, 
Frankie was the darling of her heart. She was alrrost 
ashamed sometimes of loving him so much. It seemed a 


238 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


little bit like treason to Emma. Even in the most secret 
recesses of her heart she would not for the world have 
instituted a comparison between them, but in a furtive 
sort of way, hiding the knowledge from herself, she yet 
loved Frankie with a love greater than she had given to 
any one. 

She was a little bit afraid of Emma, for Emma used 
to laugh at her and sometimes even sneer. It never 
made her the least angry ; of course, it was only natural, 
she thought, when Emma was so clever; but she was 
happier with Frankie; he was almost always gentle and 
caressing. Emma stirred her pride and her affection, 
but there were depths beneath that Frankie, and Frankie 
only, had ever moved. If Emma was her biain, Frankie 
was her heart. 

She and Frankie had always been content together to 
do Emma’s bidding, and when they did not quite like 
her plans they had confided their grievance to each 
other, and almost enjoyed their little mutual grumble; 
but now, when Frankie absolutely rebelled and Emma 
still insisted, their mother found herself in a state border- 
ing upon distraction. 

Her love for Frankie had never before led her to 
contradict Emma, and she really dared not. She would 
rather contradict Frankie himself, for she was not afraid 
of him. He would love her all the same, and after a 
lime would understand and forgive her. But for all that 
she could not bear to think of Frankie’s winter being 
spoilt, and with a great effort she had resolved that if 
Mr. Plunkett would support her she would for once 
oppose Emma and let Frankie have Murtagh. 

This resolve had cost her four or five hours’ fighting 
with herself in the solitude of her own room. Nothing 
but the remembrance of Frankie’s locked door, and the 
dread that he might get ill and yet not let her in to 
nurse him, would finally have prevailed ; but at last, as 
picture after picture passed before her mind of the terri- 
ble things he might do if he were ill and she not sitting 
by his bedside, she could bear it no longer, and with 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


239 


sudden determination had started up and gone to consult 
Mr. Plunkett. If only some one whom she trusted 
would strongly uphold her she thought she might find it 
easier to combat Emma’s opinion. 

She certainly needed somebody else’s courage, for she 
had very little of her own. Even now, animated by all 
the strength of a sudden resolution, her heart beat like a 
frightened child’s at the idea of meeting Emma, and 
being asked where she was going. 

She reached the Red House without adventure, 
and finding herself thus far so brave, her hopes were 
raised quite high. But the little effervescing spirit of 
courage died quickly away under the influence of Mr. 
Plunkett’s cold tones and grave looks. 

In answer to her half-nervous, half-vehement sug- 
gestions he urged, with a calm propriety of just deter- 
mination, the necessity for Murtagh’s sake of some 
punishment being inflicted. Cousin Jane wished with 
all her heart that she had never said she believed Mur- 
tagh guilty, but she had said it over and over again; 
and though she would have liked to put that part of the 
question on one side and forget all about it, Mr. Plun- 
kett would not allow her to do anything of the kind. 

The arguments he brought forward did not really 
affect her in the least. Murtagh might be guilty; his 
character might be ruined by slipshod indulgence ; but, 
in the first place, she could hardly grasp an idea so ab- 
stract as the ruin of a person’s character by a course of 
treatment which did not actually drive them to drink 
and steal ; and in the second place, if she had done so 
she would have thought it mattered very little compared 
with Frankie’s pleasure; she had nothing to do with 
training Murtagh. 

Still, though the arguments did not in the slightest 
degree change her wish to take Murtagh with her, they 
had their effect in this way. She felt that they ought to 
have changed it ; that every one would expect them to 
change it. They were unanswerable, and when Emma 
used them she would have nothing to urge against them. 


240 


CASTLE BLAIB. 


All the reason was against her. Her little bit of cour- 
age vanislied. She could not possibly face Emma unless 
some one would help her, and she dolefully resigned 
herself and Frankie to the will of the stronger powers. 

The matter was not quite settled when Nessa entered. 
Quickly gathering the subject of the conversation, she 
ranged herself at once on Cousin Janets side. But that, 
by some strange contradiction, had more effect than all 
Mr. Plunkett’s arguments. Cousin Jane had ^ been a 
little offended by seeing Nessa installed as mistress at 
Castle Blair. She had set her down in her mind as an 
unnatural sort of a girl, just one of John’s sort, and 
directly Nessa advocated Murtagh’s departure Cousin 
Jane began to understand the truth of all Mr. Plunkett 
urged against it. 

She was scarcely conscious of what worked the change 
in her mind. It was just an effect which people she did 
not like always had upon her; and while Nessa was 
pleading Murtagh’s cause with Mr. Plunkett, she found 
herself growing almost reconciled to leaving him behind. 

At length she stood up to go, and made a last effort 
to compromise the matter by saying to Mr. Plunkett : 

“ Well, I shall tell them it is your doing. I ’m sure I 
would never have the heart to do it by myself.” 

Mr. Plunkett was rather pleased that the children 
should know the punishment came through him, and he 
assented willingly. It was a great relief to Cousin Jane 
to find any one at all upon whom she could lay her. 
responsibility, and on her return she took refuge in say- 
ing that she could not help it. Mr. Plunkett was deter- 
mined they should not go. She had been down to hint 
to ask him again, and she could not do any more. 

Of all the children Frankie seemed to feel most 
keenly the slight put upon Murtagh, though after the 
first indignant outburst he avoided with a kind of shrink- 
ing pain any allusion to his departure. Unable to 
remain outside the heart of any one he loved, he under- 
stood and forgave his mother, and by his redoubled 
tenderness to Murtagh, and the wistful yearning looks 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


241 


with which he followed him about, he seemed to ask 
Murtagh to forgive her too. “ It is not mother, you 
know,” he said once ; “ it is Mr. Plunkett,” and then he 
hurriedly changed the subject. 

Greatly distressed by Frankie’s trouble, Murtagh tried 
to console him, showing himself perfectly cordial with 
Cousin Jane, and pretending that he did not care so very 
much for the disappointment. Winnie, too, did her 
very best, but Frankie was not to be comforted. He 
seemed to have some secret reason for his depression, 
and though he followed their footsteps like shadow he 
paid no heed to their attempts at consolation. 

The natural result of his trouble was that he became 
ill, and his mother in despair was twenty times on the 
point of changing her mind. But Emma told her that 
that was nonsense; as for Frankie’s health, the best 
thing she could do was to get him away to the sea at 
once, and a very good thing it was that there he would 
be free from the excitement of Murtagh’s presence ; he 
had been ill ever since he came to Castle Blair. 

That was very true ; and then Frankie had already for- 
given her, which Emma, she knew, would not do. So 
Cousin Jane, notwithstanding many tears and protesta- 
tions of affection to Frankie, held to her resolution, and 
the days went by to their departure. 

But Frankie grew-more and more ill, and the sight of 
his grief rendered his little cousins more determinedly 
and bitterly indignant against Mr. Plunkett. There was 
. no reason why they should not express as openly as they 
pleased their opinions of his conduct, and they railed 
•against him in turn, as with each day their angry resent- 
ment of the injustice grew stronger. 

Nessa was so troubled by their state of mind that she 
asked Mr. Blair to interfere so far at least as to establish 
a clear understanding that Cousin Jane might take the 
children if she chose. But he was tired of children and 
their concerns, and he only laughed at her a little, and 
told her that when people are in Ireland they must do 
as the Irish — leave things to take care of themselves. 
16 


242 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


It would all come right as soon as Cousin Jane was 
gone. 

Royal was the only refuge. He was always good- 
humored, always ready to entice the children to play. 
He vseemed to understand quite well that they were in 
trouble, and to want to comfort them. When they were 
talking angrily he would stand looking up into their 
faces with a sort of half-puzzled, half-coaxing expres- 
sion, that seemed to say, “I can’t understand a single 
word. What is the good of it all ? come and play with 
me,” and his invitation was almost always successful. 
Winnie seldom could resist him long. 

The moment he saw signs of relaxing in her face he 
would wag his tail and bound away, looking back to see 
if she were coming. Then if she did not come at once 
he would stop suddenly and stand with his forepaws 
spread wide apart, his head down and his tail up, saying 
as plainly as action could say it, “ You can’t catch me, 
now just try if you can.” 

That invitation was always irresistible ; the children 
would rush after him in a body, and generally dog and 
children were in another moment rolling over together 
in a heap. Then Royal would shake himself free, and 
bound off again to have the same rolling repeated 
further on, till the children forgot their troubles in a 
sheer romp. 

The day before Cousin Jane’s departure especially 
his success was unbounded. Nessa was sitting in the 
school-room window watching the children on the lawn, 
and she saw him try his process of consolation. 

The children were talking together apparently about 
Frankie’s going, for they looked exceedingly gloomy. 
Royal gamboled round the group trying to coax first 
one and then another to play with him. Winnie at last 
knelt down and throwing one arm round his neck seemed 
to be telling him their troubles. He stood quite still for 
a moment looking into her face. Then he sprang away, 
and stood wagging his tail and looking back so roguish- 
ly that Winnie was proof against him no longer. 


CASTLE BLAIE. 


243 


She bounded after him, and in another minute was 
lying on the ground with Royal standing over her, play- 
fully hitting him with her little brown fists, while he 
rolled her from side to side with his muzzle. The others 
rushed forward, and Royal in his turn was rolled over on 
the grass. He was up in a minute, and ready to revenge 
himself. The children’s grievance was forgotten, hnd 
with merry peals of laughter they raced from side to side 
of the lawn, over the empty flower-beds, up to the 
house, down to the river’s edge, — one minute attacking, 
the next running away from the dog. 

But suddenly in the midst of the laughter there came 
a great splash in the river, and a sharp cry arose from 
three or four of the children : 

“ Fetch her. Royal ; fetch her ! ” 

Nessa knew that the river was not very deep; but the 
children were excited, and in one of the pools if they 

lost their heads In an instant she was on the 

bank. Quick as she was Royal was quicker. By the 
time she reached the children Winnie was standing 
dripping wet upon the grass — laughing, panting, sput- 
tering the water out of her mouth, and rubbing it out of 
her eyes, while the others crowded round Royal with 
many exclamations of delight. 

Nessa’s anxious face was received with peals of 
laughter. She asked Winnie if she were hurt, but at 
that Winnie only laughed the more, till at last Rosie 
explained : 

“ She didn’t tumble in ; she did it on purpose. We 
wanted to see whether Royal would fetch her out.” 

“ And then he did ! ” 

“ Isn’t he a beauty ! Did you ever know such a 
perfect dog ? ” 

“ It ’s just the same as if he had saved her life, 
because he thought she ’d tumbled in by accident ! ” 

“ Murtagh said ’ Newfoundland dogs would ! Oh, 
Winnie, you are lucky to have him for your own.” 

“ There now, Miss Rosie ; who was right, you or Mur 


244 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


“ Did he bite, Winnie ? ” 

All the children were speaking at once, pouring out a 
volley of cross questions and remarks, interspersed with 
laughter and caresses of Royal. But they managed to 
hear Nessa, as trying to forget her fright she replied 
laughingly : 

You are a set of reckless monkeys ; come in and do 
penance now by changing your clothes.” 

And while Murtagh, Bobbo, and Rosie began all at 
once eagerly to describe what happened, Winnie, with 
little rivers running down from every fold of her dress 
and every lock of her hair, led the way towards the 
house. 

Both her hands were occupied with trying to pull her 
clinging petticoats away from her knees in order to 
enable her to walk, but Royal trotted gravely beside her, 
looking at her from time to time to make sure she was 
not hurt, and wagging his tail with satisfaction as she 
lavished upon him every extravagant epithet of endear- 
ment that came to her lips. Donnie’s feelings when she 
saw the wet frocks, for with hugging Royal the other 
children were nearly as wet as Winnie, did not disturb 
anybody in the least. They all knew what Donnie’s 
scoldings meant ; and as soon as they had changed into 
dry clothes they came down as merry as ever to crown 
Royal king of the school-room. 

It was, however, only a transient gleam of brightness. 
They went out again after tea while Frankie was at 
dinner, but they found the merry fit was over. The 
gloom of Frankie’s approaching departure surrounded 
them. Their attempt at a game was a failure, and they 
soon wandered in again to watch for him as he came out 
of the dining-room. 

The evening passed sadly. Frankie was tired and 
depressed; Cousin Jane reproaching herself for having 
waited till so late in the season to take Frankie to 
Torquay, and unable to conceal her anxiety at the 
prospect of the approaching voyage; the children 
gloomily indignant. 


CASTLE BLAIR, 


245 


- Nessawas astonished that in Frankie’s condition there 
could be any question of persisting in the journey. But 
though the doctor had said with that saddest of all kind- 
ness that he might stay if he wished it, Cousin Jane 
determinately persuaded herself that he was only worse 
because he had stayed too long in Ireland, and she 
clung with all a mother’s desperate hope to the journey 
that was to work wonders for her boy. Poor Cousin 
Jane! — she would not, she could not understand the 
grief that was coming upon her. 

By reason of the inconvenient hours of the trains the 
traveling party was obliged to start at an early hour in 
the morning, and at six o’clock the children were up to 
see it off. 

The hall fire had not yet been made up for the day ; 
yesterday’s gray embers smouldered in the hearth ; and 
in the dreary light of the one lamp Brown had put in 
the hall they stood and watched the boxes being brought 
down. The door was open, outside it was still dark, and 
a fine rain was falling which made the raw morning air 
damp and unpleasantly cold. 

The children shivered as they waited, but Cousin Jane 
did not keep them long. She came down first with 
Frankie to let him say good-by to his cousins while 
Emma was occupied with last preparations. Poor 
Cousin Jane’s natural good nature triumphed at the last 
moment. She seemed to have provided herself with 
half-crowns innumerable, and as she kissed all the 
children she insisted on shoveling big silver pieces into 
their hands. She said she hoped at all events to bring 
Frankie back for a long visit in the spring, and as she 
bid Murtagh good-by she added warmly ; 

“ I am very sorry you ’re not coming with us, Murtagh, 
and I ’m sure Frankie ’s as sorry as you are. Well, it’s 
not my fault ; I ’d a great deal rather have taken you 
than have you all disappointed.” 

The last words were perhaps more true than judicious, 
but at the moment Emma came down, and Cousin Jane 
went to arrange the carriage for Frankie. 


246 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


It turned out to be a long process, and while the 
others gathered round the carriage Frankie stood with 
Murtagh and Winnie in the deep window recess, silently 
looking out at the wet steps and the dark figures faintly 
illuminated by the yellow light of the carriage-lamps. 

The three little hearts were very full, but not a word 
was spoken till at last Cousin Jane called: “ Come now, 
sonnie ! we ’re nearly ready.” 

At the sound of her voice Frankie turned slowly 
away from the window; then, throwing his arms round 
Murtagh’s neck, he kissed him passionately three or 
four times. “ Good-by,” he w'hispered, ‘^good-by ! ” But 
there seemed to be something else he wanted to say. 
His deep brown eyes were fixed upon Murtagh’s face 
with a wistful, yearning earnestness that made Murtagh, 
with one of his sudden impulses of tenderness, pass his 
arm round Frankie’s neck and whisper: “Nevermind, 
you ’ll soon come back ! ” 

Winnie, who had been watching the preparations with 
a half-angry feeling, suddenly felt a choking lump rise in 
her throat. She took one of Frankie’s hands, but 
Frankie seemed scarcely to notice her, and drawing a 
long breath he continued in a rapid whisper : 

“ Myrrh, I must tell you now, because perhaps this is 
the last. I think I ’m dying ; and I ’m very glad, because 
you ’ll be much richer. They told me about it when 
they wanted me to get well. And if I die before I come 
back you ’re to have my pony, and Winnie has Royal. 
And — and you won’t forget all about me, because I do 
love you so ! ” His voice faltered, and neither Winnie 
nor Murtagh could speak. “ I will always remember 
you there,” he added in a still lower whisper, “being 
dead can’t make me forget.” 

One last silent kiss from both the children, and he 
went slowly towards the carriage trying to hide his 
emotion from his mother and sister. Murtagh and 
Winnie forgot that any one was there, and tears trickled 
unheeded over their cheeks as they stood together on 
the threshold watching the little wasted figure descend 
the steps. 


CASTLE BLAIIt. 


247 


Royal was standing by the carriage. He understood 
the meaning of the boxes, and looked wistfully from his 
little master to Winnie as if uncertain which to forsake. 
Frankie stooped and kissed him. “Good-by, Royal,” 
he said; “you are hers now; mind you take good care 
of her. Winnie,” with a faint attempt to smile as he 
turned again to his cousins, “ I know you ’ll take good 
care of him.” 

The carriages drove away, and Brown not noticing the 
two children shut the hall door. They stood on the wet 
steps looking through the darkness at the swiftly disap 
pearing lights. They were too shocked and, as it were, 
stunned by Frankie’s words to be able to realize all at 
once what they meant ; but slowly, slowly, the full mean- 
ing dawned upon them. They were never to see little 
Frankie again. They had said their last good-by. 

“ Win, it can’t be true ! it can’t be true ! ” exclaimed 
Murtagh. 

“ Oh, Myrrh, isn’t it dreadful being children ? ” cried 
Winnie. “ We can’t go with him. Oh, I do hate Mr. 
Plunkett. I do hate him, so I do ! ” And Winnie, who 
seldom cried, threw herself down on the steps in a 
passion of tears. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

T he end was nearer than even the doctors had 
expected. Frankie caught cold on the journey, 
and two or three days after his departure a broken- 
hearted letter came from his poor mother saying that 
they were at an hotel in Dublin; they could get no 
further, for Frankie was dangerously ill. It was the 
first time she had ever admitted that there was danger 
in his illness, and when Mr. Blair gave the letter to 
Nessa to read, he said: “It was a matter of months 
befoi e, now I am afraid it is a matter of days. Poor 
Jane I ” 


248 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


Poor Jane, indeed ! Even while Mr. Blair was speak- 
ing, she was sitting in dumb despair in the darkened 
hotel bed-room holding her dead son’s hand in hers. 
The end had come, the end of all her brightest hopes, 
the end of all her tenderest affections. Suddenly, — in 
a moment. And already of the old sweet time nothing 
was left but memory. How could she believe it } Ah, 
poor Jane, poor Jane ! 

But at Castle Blair they did not yet know this, and 
neither Mr. Blair nor Nessa had thought it necessary to 
communicate to the children the bad news they had 
received of little Frankie’s state. On the contrary, 
Nessa kindly devoted herself to cheering and amusing 
them in order that they might feel as little as possible 
the disappointment of not accompanying their cousin. 

And though she was little accustomed to the society 
of children, she had a wonderfully practical way of 
doing whatever she made up her mind had to be done. 
What she did she seemed to do by a sort of instinct, 
much as the birds sing, and the flowers grow; and 
somehow she generally succeeded. 

In this instance she succeeded marvelously. Winnie 
and Murtagh began to forget the trouble into which 
Frankie’s words had thrown them. When they were 
alone and quiet it came back to them, but they had 
repeated to no one what he had said, and somehow in 
the midst of all their occupations the words began to 
seem unreal. The trouble of Pat’s absence was there 
too down underneath, but Nessa did not speak at all of 
those things. She laughed with the children, went for 
walks with them, took an interest in their occupations, 
and began as she said to reform them. She just wanted 
to divert their thoughts. 

So it happened that three or four days after Frankie’s 
departure, the children having been with Nessa and 
Royal for a scramble across the fields, came in quite 
rosy with racing, and in a mood to think of some 
improvements that they desired to make in the fire-place 
of the island hut. 


CASTLE BLAIE. 


249 


“There’s no time like the present,” said Murtagh, 
and as the others were of his opinion they left Nessa to 
enter tlie house alone, and started off with Royal to 
spend the rest of the afternoon upon the island. 

Nessa was glad to be alone. Good-natured as she 
was she was too little accustomed to children’s society 
not to be a little fatigued by it, and to-day especially, 
for though she had not chosen to seem one bit less 
bright, she had thought often of Cousin Jane’s sad letter 
about little Frankie. 

She was thinking of it again now as she stood by the 
school-room window. The park was in dreary unison 
with depressed thoughts, for dying leaves hung damply 
to the branches, and mists were already rising to close 
the short day; winter had almost come. But Nessa did 
not pay much attention to the landscape. She was’ 
thinking of the bright gentle little boy who had so lately 
been with them, and she too felt awed at the thought of 
death. But she could not believe that he would die ; it 
seemed impossible, it was such a short time since he 
had been there talking and laughing with them all. His 
mother’s anxiety made her think him worse than he was, 
and Uncle Blair always saw things sadly. 

Nessa could not believe in sadness. No, no, it would 
not be, he would get well, he could not die when his 
mother loved him so. So she persuaded herself; but 
when, after standing a long while by the window she 
happened to look out, the gray dampness of the land- 
scape made her shudder, she did not quite know why, 
and with a sudden impulsive movement she pulled down 
the blind. She came over to the fire and poked it into - 
a blaze. Poor little fellow ! But, yes, she felt certain 
he would get well. In Dublin he would be near the 
best doctors. That glimpse she had had of dim rolling 
sward with skeleton trees standing out against a heavy 
sky, had produced a singular effect ; she could not quite 
shake it off; but it was foolish to be influenced by such 
things ; she would get a book to read, and think no more 
about it. 


250 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


She rang for Peggy to put the room in order, and 
went up-stairs to take her things off and to fetch a book. 
A quarter of an hour later she was comfortably estab- 
lished on the big brown sofa by the fire, and her 
unpleasant impressions were forgotten in a book that 
interested her immensely. 

It was an odd book for her to be charmed by, but 
coming upon it the other day in the library she had stood 
nearly an hour by the book-case reading on from where 
she had opened, and though she had not been able to look 
at it since, she had not forgotten the almost painful charm 
it had had for her. It was only a collection of stories 
taken from Italian history. Nothing more unlikely to 
please her could well have been imagined. Three 
months ago she would have turned from it with a sort of 
horror ; but a new side of her nature had been awakened 
since she had been in Ireland ; and the wildness, the 
enthusiasm, the restless, passionate courage, roughly but 
vividly described in the pages of this book, responded 
not to new wants arising in her mind, but to new 
sympathies. 

What she had opened on to-day was an account of the 
conquest of Sicily by Charles of Anjou. It told of the 
bitter slavery of the people, of the heroic efforts of 
Giovanni di Procida to free his beloved country, and 
then of the irresistible passion bursting out at last on 
the day of the Sicilian Vespers. Nessa would not have 
understood it a little while ago. Now she read with 
such absorbed attention that she forgot everything in 
this world save Sicilian wrongs. 

But as she was coming to the very climax of the story 
she was startled out of her abstraction by Peggy’s 
entrance with a tray of rattling tea-things. 

“ It wants’ ten minutes of dinner-time. Miss,” remarked 
that maiden in a tone of respectful admonition. 

“What!” exclaimed Nessa. “ The whole afternoon 
gone already. And the children, too, they have not 
come in.” 

But there was no time for exclamations j climax or no 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


251 


climax, the nine pages that remained of her book had to 
be left till after dinner; and, as it was, her evening 
toilette had to be made with a truly fairy-like rapidity. 

She was growing accustomed now to the erratic ways 
of her little cousins, and did not trouble herself about 
their prolonged absence. Even when after dinner she 
returned to the school-room and found tea still untouched, 
she only concluded that their fire-place had taken longer 
to build than they had expected. 

Her mind was still full of her book, and having piled 
fresh wood upon the fire she settled down contentedly 
to finish it. 

The children left her just time. She was reading the 
last lines, when a banging of doors, a sudden clatter of 
little feet across the hall, a confusion of voices and 
laughter mixed with the short playful barks of a dog, 
announced that they were coming. The next minute 
Bobbo burst open the school-room door and rushed in, 
followed by the two girls, all rosy — laughing, panting, 
and all trying to talk at the same time. Royal jumped 
round them and barked in chorus, till the sounds became 
so mixed that it was difficult to say who was barking and 
who was talking. 

“ Down, Royal ; be quiet, my beauty ! ” cried Winnie 
at last, while Bobbo exclaimed: “Oh, Nessa, we’ve had 
such fun, and Royal behaved so splendidly. You never 
saw such a dog. He does every single thing Winnie 
tells. He ’s the best king of our tribe we could possibly 

have ; he flew at them like Oh, it was glorious to 

see how they ran.” 

Here all the children again tried to tell what had 
happened, and Bobbo’s voice was lost in the Babel that 
ensued. 

Nessa had shut up her book on their entrance, and 
laughingly put her hands to her ears. 

“ How can I hear a single word,” she exclaimed, “ if 
you all talk at once ? ” 

“ All right ; give me something to eat, and I ’ll be as 
quiet as a lamb,” cried Bobbo, sitting down to the tea- 


252 


CASTLE BLAIR, 


table as he spoke and seizing upon some bread and 
butter. “Gollyloo! I starving.” 

“ But do just listen,” cried Winnie. “ It was such fun 
to see them. You ’d have thought Royal was a wild 
bea — Oh, where ’s the milk ! ” she exclaimed, suddenly 
interrupting herself. “ He must have some supper.” 

‘Hiere ’s the milk,” said Nessa. “And where is Mur- 
tagh ? And what is it that Royal has done ” 

“Oh, Murtagh ! He’s coming; he’ll be here in a 
minute. Well — we were on the island, and we’d got 
some big stones out of the river, and we were building 
away when we heard some one coming. First we 
thought it was you, and we thought that was jolly, so we 
called out : ‘ Here we are, awfully busy. Are you going 
to help us ? ’ But then Royal jumped up and began to 
growl, and a man called back again : ‘ I think we ’ll 
help ye with the wrong sides of our shovels;’ and lo and 
behold ! there were two of the men — Hickey and that 
red-headed donkey, Phelim, — with picks and shovels on 
their shoulders, and would you like to know what they 
wanted 1 ” 

Nessa looked her surprise and attention, but did not 
even attempt to guess the preposterous design. 

“To pull down our hut!” shouted all the children 
together. “ Our own very hut that we ’ve had ever since 
we came here ! ” 

Bobbo opportunely choked over a mouthful of toast, 
and Rosie patted his back, while Winnie, seizing the 
chance, continued : “ Did you ever hear of such a thing 
in your life ? There was a wall to be mended some- 
where, they said, and Mr. Plunkett had told them to 
take the stones from our hut. But we soon let them see 
their mistake. We told them they might go to London 
for their stones if they liked, but they weren ’t going to 
have one of ours. Phelim began to laugh in his stupid, 
aggravating way, and he said : ‘ Oh, ay, we ’ve found 
our master now, you know, and what he says has got to 
be. The quality is no account at all now alongside o’ 
the agents.’ 


CASTLE BLAIE. 


253 


“ So then Murtagh started up from the fire-place and 
he came to the door, and he. said: ‘All the agents in 
Ireland may go to the bottom of the sea for all I care. 
But if you touch one stone of this hut I ’ll set the dog 
upon you.’ And Royal knew quite well what Murtagh 
was saying, for he wagged his tail and looked as pleased 
as possible. Phelim was frightened ; but Hickey said 
he couldn ’t help it, and he came up nearer to the hut ; 
and Murtagh called out to him to stay where he was. 
And Royal growled; he growled just like a bear^ so he 
did. And Hickey would come on. So then Murtagh 
and me called out, ‘ At them. Royal ; good dog ! ’ and 
he sprang straight at them. 

“ They both turned and ran ; but just as they got to ' 
the edge of the island he seized Phelim, and down he 
went with him into the river. Oh, Nessa, if you could 
have seen Phelim ! ” continued Winnie with a merry 
peal of laughter. “ His great red head went down and 
his heels went up; there was a tremendous splashing 
and gurgling, and then he roared ! he roared just like a 
child, at the very top of his voice, and Royal — Royal 
laughed at him ! he did, really, upon my word ; we all 
saw him; he regularly shook himself with laughing; 
because he got out of the water and stood on the bank, 
and Phelim sat there in the river just roaring till — 

till ” But the remembrance of the scene made 

Winnie laugh so much that her words became inco- 
herent. 

“Till Hickey pulled him out, and they both took 
themselves off,” said Murtagh’s voice behind her. 

“And Royal ?” said Nessa, laughing. 

“Oh,” said Winnie, recovering herself, “Royal was 
too much of a gentleman to have anything more to say 
to him, only when Hickey was going to help him up. 
Royal ran at Hickey ; so then Hickey took to his heels, 
and so did Phelim, and Royal just stood on the shore and 
barked and barked as much as to say, ‘You know what 
you have to expect if you come worrying my tribe.’ 
Didn’t you, my beauty ? ” and Winnie’s story ended 


254 


CASTLE BLAIIt. 


with a hug to Royal as she knelt down before him with 
his supper. 

“ But you had better take care,” said Nessa, “or you 
will be getting Royal into trouble.” 

“ Oh,” said Winnie, “ that doesn’t matter. You ’re 
my own, aren’t you, my precious one, and nobody can 
touch you without my leave.” 

While Winnie continued to speak, Murtagh had flung 
himself silently into a great arm-chair by the window, 
and Nessa saw by his face and manner that he was in 
one of his proud, angry moods. She attended to the 
wants of the other children who were ravenously hun- 
gry, and then seeing that he did not stir, she said: 
“Your tea is poured out, Murtagh.” 

“ I don’t want any tea, thank you,” replied Murtagh 
from the depths of his arm-chair. 

Then ashamed, perhaps, of the tone in which he had 
spoken, he sprang up and came to the table. 

“ But let me cut the bread and butter for them,” he 
said, taking the loaf from her, “ see what red marks the 
knife makes on your hands.” He looked up as he spoke 
with a pleasant smile. 

“ Did you ever know any one like Mr. Plunkett ? ” 
remarked Rosie at the same moment. “Just imagine 
him wanting to take the stones of our hut ! ” 

“ He ’s not going to get them,” said Murtagh shortly, 
his brow clouding over again. 

“ It ’s the most ridiculous idea I ever heard in my 
life ! ” exclaimed Winnie, — “ knock down our hut that 
we ’ve had ever since we ’ve been here, to mend some 
silly old wall. They’ll be knocking down this house 
next to build up Mr. Plunkett’s. I think they’ve all 
gone mad.” 

“ And besides,” said Murtagh, “papa built that hut 
with his own hands when he was a little boy. He told 
us all about it before we came here. Pat O’Toole’s 
father helped him, and they collected every single stone 
that ’s in it one by one out of the river. It took them 
more than six months getting all the stones, and build- 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


255 


“ Why don’t you tell that to Uncle Blair ? ” said Nessa. 
“You maybe quite sure nobody remembers who built 
lit, or they would not pull it down to mend a wall. 
Shall I tell him for you this evening and ask him to 
explain to Mr. Plunkett ? ” 

Murtagh’s face relaxed a little, and Rosie exclaimed : 

“ Oh yes, do ; then that will prevent another fight 
with Mr. Plunkett, and we shan’t be all so miserably 
uncomfortable. I think it ’s much nicer to be a peace- 
ful tribe. It is so like savages,' fighting and fighting.” 

“ Listen to’ Rosie talking good ! ” burst out Winnie 
contemptuously. “ Do you suppose Nessa means we 
ought to try and not fight just to make ourselves more 
comfortable ” 

Rosie reddened, but made some sharp reply, and then 
ensued one of their ordinary sparring matches, while 
Nessa paying no attention to them was busy at the fire 
toasting a slice of bread. 

The sparring passed into a din of continuous remarks 
which every one made and nobody listened to; but 
Murtagh stood silent cutting bread till Nessa returned 
from the fire and a plate of buttered toast was laid on 
the table beside him, with a smiling, “ After all, I 
believe you are hungry, Murtagh.” Then he took a bit 
of toast, and continued in the same tone as his last 
remark : 

“ Papa knows the shape'of every one of the biggest 
stones. He made a picture for us once of the inside of 
the hut, and he used to tell us stories in the evenings 
when there wasn’t any one there, about his adventures 
when he went in the river looking for stones.” 

“ And you know that three-cornered white one, just a 
little bit on the right-hand side, inside the door ! ” cried 
Winnie. “Well, he was very nearly drowned getting 
that. They thought he was drowned first, only Grannie 
O’Toole got him round (she’s dead now, you know), and 
they never told papa’s papa and mamma for fear they 
mightn’t let him go in the river for any more.” 

“And then,” said Murtagh, his anger rising again at 


256 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


the remembrance, they think they ’re going to get it 
to put in some beastly wall. But Mr. Plunkett’s greatly 
mistaken if he supposes I ’m going to let him touch a 
single one of papa’s stones.” 

“ Not while we have Royal to protect us,” said Win- 
nie. “ I ’d rather stay up there day and night.” 

“There’s one thing,” put in Bobbo, “even if he did 
get the stones we could knock the wall down and take 
them back and hide them.” 

“ He ’ll get a good many duckings from Royal before 
he gets a stone out C)f the hut,” returned Murtagh 
fiercely. “ And if he ’s held under a little too long by 
mistake it would be a good riddance,” he added half 
under his breath. 

“ Murtagh ! ” exclaimed Nessa almost involuntarily, 
but in a tone that expressed her dismay. 

“ 1 can't help it,” returned Murtagh, “ he makes me 
feel — ” And the tone of Murtagh’s voice finished his 
sentence for him. 

Nessa looked at him ; she could not understand this 
energy of hate. But notwithstanding his anger there 
was in his face something so forlorn that she felt more 
sorry for him than shocked. 

“ Come and sit by the fire, and let us try and forget 
all about him just for the present. It is no use to talk 
about him, is it?” she said kindly. Murtagh flashed 
back a bright grateful glance as he responded to her 
invitation by throwing himself upon the hearth-rug, but 
he did not speak, and his brow, soon clouded over 
again. Nessa began to chat with the others; but she 
wished to keep the conversation clear of Mr. Plunkett, 
and all subjects interesting to the children had a fatal 
tendency to come back to him sooner or later. The 
safest thing to do was to talk of herself. 

“ Do you know what I have been doing all this after- 
noon ? ” she remarked presently. “ I have been read- 
ing the most wonderful — But no, you shall just guess. 
Guess what it was about.” 

“Easy to guess,” said Winnie, “if you got it out of 


CASTLE BLAIB. 


257 


the lib/ary. Some horrible dry stuff or other out of a 
book a yard long. Don’t you know what grown-up 
people always read ? ” 

“No, it wasn’t,” said Nessa. '“The book was not- 
bigger than one of your story books, and — ” 

“Horrid squinny little print, then, and yellow paper 
all over stains,” replied Winnie laughing and uncere- 
moniously interrupting. “/ know Uncle Blair’s books; 
they make one feel dusty to look at them.” 

“No, it wasn’t,” replied Nessa shaking her head. 
“ It had — well, yes, it had a dreadfully ugly binding, 
but lovely white paper.” 

“ Long S’s,” suggested Murtagh, making the remark 
because it occurred to him, but showing no desire to 
enter into the conversation. 

“Oh yes, yes,” cried Winnie. “Long S’s, and funny 
little pictures of girls with parasols over their heads 
and trousers down to their boots. Now wasn’t it, 
Nessa?” 

“No,” said Nessa, laughing, “not one single longs, 
and the pictures were all of robber castles in the moun- 
tains, and men fighting, and women fainting, and ship- 
wrecks, and dungeons.” 

“ Oh, I say, how jolly ! ” exclaimed Bobbo. “ That ’s 
something like a book. What was it all about ? ” 

“ Couldn’t you tell us some of it ? ” said Rosie. “ It ’s 
so nice being told stories.” 

“Oh yes,” cried Winnie. “If it’s something dread- 
ful do please tell us. I feel just in the very humor to 
put out the candles and poke up the fire and have 
something awful — something that’ll make our flesh 
regularly creep and our hair stand up.” 

The other children were apparently of Wii nie’s mind, 
so little Elbe was sent to bed, the table was hastily 
cleared to prevent Peggy coming in to interrupt, and 
they all gathered round the fire. 

Nessa was not accustomed ‘ to story-telling, but she 
acquitted herself wonderfully well. Sure that the sub- 
ject would charm the children, she was delighted to find 

17 


258 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


something which would take them completely out of 
their every-day troubles. So she described at length 
the sunny beauty of Sicily, its fruitful fields and smiling 
landscapes ; she pictured the charming peaceful life that 
the inhabitants might have led ; and if she allowed her 
imagination to run away with her a little, she succeeded 
at all events in warmly interesting her audience. 

Murtagh alone paid little attention. His thoughts 
were full of his own troubles, and he lay on his back on 
the hearthrug brooding over them with a bitterness that 
excluded every other feeling. Soon, however, Nessa 
came to the conquest of the island. Some sentences 
that he overheard aroused his interest. He began to 
listen, and before she had gone very far in her relation 
of the oppression and injustice to which the unfortunate 
Sicilians were then forced to submit, he had rolled him- 
self over and was lying stretched out at her feet, his 
elbows planted firmly on the ground, his chin resting on 
his hands, and his burning black eyes fixed upon her 
face with an expression that might well have startled 
her had she seen it. 

She did not see it, however; she was now quite 
occupied by her story, and without being aware of the 
fact she had become eloquent in her description of how 
by degrees the whole country cried out for freedom, till 
at last a man was found ready to devote himself to his 
country’s cause. 

Murtagh’s face as she proceeded was a curious study. 
It seemed at first with restless indignation to reflect 
every passion she described, but when she began to 
speak of John of Procida, and entered upon his reso- 
lute and devoted efforts for the freedom of his country, 
there came over it an eager exalted look, a look of fixed 
and passionate sympathy, that never faded till she 
brought the story to its climax. 

“ I would rather read you the end,” she said, pausing 
to look down at their flushed faces, and eager eyes, and 
towsled heads, ruddy in the firelight. “The book will 
tell it better than 1 can.” 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


259 


The book was still on the sofa ; she had only to open 
it. The children, all wondering what was to come next, 
were too much interested to speak, and she read : 

“In the year 1282, Easter Monday fell on the 30th 
of March. It was a beautiful spring day, and the people 
of Palermo, according to their custom on holidays, 
flocked out in hundreds to the meadows in the direction 
of the church of Montreal, intending to hear vespers 
and to witness also the marriage of a beautiful young 
girl, the daughter of one Roger Mastrangelo. 

“ Mixed among the crowd of Sicilians were many 
Frenchmen who had come out intending also to see the 
marriage and to join in the games that were to fill the 
evening. But, as usual, the French were behaving 
roughly to the Sicilian men and impudently to the 
women, causing the Sicilian faces to look black and 
angry. 

“ It was one of the vexatious laws of the French that 
no Sicilian should carry arms, and presently a French- 
man cried out : 

“‘These rebellious Paterins must have arms hidden 
upon them or they would never dare to look so sulky. 
Let us search them.’ 

“ The idea was instantly caught up, and in another • 
moment the festival would have been disturbed by a 
general search, when an admiring murmur running 
through the crowd turned all thoughts to another direc- 
tion. The bride was coming, and every one turned to 
look. 

“ Dressed in her pretty wedding finery, her gold 
ornaments glinting in the sunlight, she leaned upon her 
father’s arm, while her lover and the friends who were 
asked to the wedding walked behind. Every one moved 
out of her way, the crowds round the church door 
opened a pathway in their midst for her to walk through, 
and - blushing and smiling she advanced toward the 
church. Suddenly a Frenchman stepped out of the 
crowd, and crying out with a coarse laugh, ‘ I daresay 
she has gc t arms hidden about her somewhere,’ he tore 


26 o 


CASTLE BLAIE. 


open her dress and thrust his hand into her bosom. 
Terriiied and insulted the poor girl fainted into her 
lover’s arms, but her father sprang upon the offender, 
and tearing his sword from him stabbed him with it, 
crying as he did so ; ‘ Let the French die.’ 

“ Then every Sicilian in the place echoed the shout, 
‘Let the French die.’ They had broken at last from 
their slavery, and more like wild beasts than men they 
took their revenge. In a moment the French were over- 
powered. Their arms were dragged from them and 
they were killed with their own swords. Back into the 
town went the Sicilians shouting everywhere, ‘ Let the 
French die,’ and before they laid down their arms that 
evening they had killed four thousand.” 

Murtagh’s eyes were fixed eagerly upon Nessa, and 
as her voice ceased he drew himself up suddenly on to 
his knees and exclaimed : 

“ Oh, how I wish I had been there ! I would have 
fought with all my might and main against those mean 
French thieves. Did John of Procida succeed in the 
end 1 ” 

“ Yes,” said Nessa. As she answered she looked at 
him and was startled by the almost feverish interest of 
his face. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes bright, and 
he continued with rapid passionate utterance : 

“ How could they bear it so long How could they 
live not free in their own beautiful country? But John 
of Procida was true, he was brave, he knew that it is 
better to die than to live like slaves.” 

Murtagh was not speaking to any one. His words 
poured out one after the other as though the feeling in 
his mind had unconsciously framed itself into speech. 

-What a strange excitable nature it was! Nessa half 
wished that she had not told him the story as she looked 
at him kneeling there in the fire-light with that fierce 
fervent look upon his face. 

The other children looked at him in surprise; his 
enthusiasm had astonished them too. 

“ Why, Murtagh,” said Rosie, “ how awfully hot you 
look ! your cheeks are as red as fire.” 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


261 


“Yes,” said Nessa, bending forward and arranging 
with her fingers his hair that was -standing up on end, 
“ I think you are quite excited by my story.” 

“ If you please, Miss,” said Brown’s respectfully sub- 
dued voice at the door, “ tea has been in the drawing- 
room for a quarter of an hour, and Mr. Blair desired me 
to let you know.” 

Murtagh started up. 

“ Why, Nessa, I had no idea it was so late ! ” he 
said, with a certain amount of ordinary surprise in his 
voice, but his eyes still full of suppressed excitement. 
“ Good night,” and without more words he went. 

His abrupt departure disturbed Nessa ; she feared 
that with the intention of distracting his thoughts she 
had really excited him too much ; and more than once 
while she chatted with her uncle, that evening she found 
herself wondering whether Murtagh were asleep yet. 
A good night’s rest would be the best remedy for all his 
troubles. 

Her disquietude would not have lessened if she had 
been able to see into Murtagh’s mind. 

He had entered the school-room in a tumult of rage, 
indignation, and rebellion. Bitterly repentant for the 
scene in the haggart which had caused so much un- 
happiness, he believed that it was nothing but deliberate 
persecution on Mr. Plunkett’s part to pretend still to 
consider him guilty. He could not imagine that any 
one could really think him capable of such a tissue of 
lies, of such abominable cowardice as his guilt would 
now imply; and there was something that roused all his 
indignation in the idea that Mr. Plunkett saw now a 
good opportunity for crushing him and was determined 
to hit him hard while he was down. It was cruel, 
unjust, ungenerous. “ Why does he do it ? ” Murtagh 
had cried passionately to himself, “ Why does he do 
it? I shall do something dreadful some day, I know I 
shall, if he goes on like this.” 

With his wild little heart stirred to these depths he 
had listened to Nessa’s story. The barbaric independ- 


262 


CASTLE BLAIB. 


ence, the despairing savage struggle for freedom of the 
oppressed and devoted Sicilians, had appealed to his 
imagination in a way that it would hav'e done at no 
other time. His own spirit seemed to be put in action; 
his wrongs were somehow merged in theirs ; and in the 
tempest of their vengeance he was whirled along, feeling 
almost as though he too were at last taking just revenge 
lor all the injuries that rankled in his mind. The 
fierce, almost savage, satisfaction that he felt, would 
have horrified himself had he not been so strangely 
moved ; but for nearly the whole of the last month he 
had been living in a state of high pressure which could 
not fail to have some strong effect. He had alternated 
between extremes of violent passion and heroic resolve, 
and his mind was torn and shaken by the storm. 

Alone in his room he walked up and down in the 
darkness, absently undressing, and dropping the various 
articles of his clothing upon the floor. Absorbed as he 
was he could not have told his thoughts ; they scarcely 
were thoughts at all; his mind was carried along by 
some stronger power. Nessa’s story possessed him ; he 
was living in that, and confusedly mixed up with it was 
the indignant remembrance of his own troubles. 

At last he threw himself upon his bed, but too excited 
to sleep he tossed and turned for hours, seeing over and 
over again in the darkness all the details of the story. 
Unconsciously he fell into imagining himself the leader 
of the Sicilians ; he felt the enthusiasm and the savage 
joy that must have burned in them. His cheeks grew 
hot, his eyes flashed, as with vivid fancy he saw the 
fighting round him ; the only thing worth doing in this 
world seemed to be to die for freedom, and through all 
the excitement there flashed across his mind, from time 
to time, a feeling of something like impatient despair at 
the -.hought that there was nothing for him to do. 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


263 


CHAPTER. XXV. 

T owards morning Murtagh fell into a disturbed 
sleep ; but almost before daybreak he was awak- 
ened by Bobbo, who exclaimed as he shook him by the 
shoulder : 

“ Get up, Myrrh ! We ’d better be on the island early 
if we want to save the hut.” 

In an instant Murtagh was out of bed. Save the 
hut ! whatever else he might give in about he would 
never relinquish that, — their father’s hut. 

The passionate thoughts of the night before had now 
assumed the tangible form, of a dogged determination to 
resist Mr. Plunkett, and a pleasant sense of anticipated 
triumph tingled through his veins as he hurriedly 
dressed himself. All the miserable abasement of yester- 
day’s anger was gone. He was going to fight now ! 

With his head thrown back and a confident deter- 
mined look upon his face he ran down the stairs, saying 
to Bobbo: “Call the girls, while I fetch Royal. We 
shall see who ’ll be master this time ! ” 

Before it was fully light the four children were on the 
island. Rosie, with practical forethought, had possessed 
herself of such scraps of food as she could find in the 
kitchen and servants’ hall, and now they lighted a. fire 
and sat down by it to eat their miscellaneous breakfast. 

“ But what are you going to do, Murtagh } ” inquired 
Rosie, with a note of fretful disappointment in her voice. 
It really was an unkind fate which had made her the 
sister of such a brother. She had not the least taste for 
adventures. 

“You ’ll see when the time comes,” replied Murtagh, 
whose ideas were in truth very vague. He felt only 


264 


CASTLE BLAITt. 


sure of one thing, which was that he meant to do some- 
thing. 

“ I don’t mind what it is,” said Winnie ; “ I ’m ready 
for anything ! ” 

“ So am I,” said Bobbo, “ only I vote we don’t hurt 
the poor beggars if we can help it.” 

No ; because it ’s not their fault you know, Myrrh,” 
decided Winnie. 

“ No ; but we can’t let them land here ! ” replied Mur- 
tagh determinately. “ If they will get hurt we can’t 
help it. Now look here, we had better collect a lot of 
bits of wood, and clods, and things, and pile them up 
in front here, where we can get at them easily. . They 
are sure to come up this front way.” 

“ Oh,” cried Winnie in delight, “ you ’re going to pelt 
them ! Then let us get some of that stiff, yellow mud 
from the bank. It will do gloriously ! ” 

But their warlike preparations seemed likely to be 
quite unnecessary. Time passed quietly on. No one 
came to disturb the peace of the island, and the children 
were beginning to thii^k they might have spared them- 
selves the trouble of their early watch, when the loose 
rattle of cart-wheels was heard coming along the road 
on the left bank of the river. 

“ Here they come ! ” cried Murtagh, springing from 
his seat by the fire and hurrying out to reconnoitre. 

The others hastily followed. Through a gap in the 
bushes they saw two empty carts coming down the road. 
The driver of each was seated on the shaft smoking a 
short pipe, and in the corner of one of the carts were 
visible the handles of picks and mallets. 

“Yes,” exclaimed Murtagh, “it’s them. Now we’re 
in for it ! Royal, old boy, are you ready ? ” 

The faces of the other children beamed with excite- 
ment. Royal understood well enough that something 
unusual was the matter, for he answered Murtagh’s ap- 
peal by a short yap and a pricking up of his ears which 
meant business. Even Rosie was so carried away by 
the excitement of the approaching battle as to exclaim 
m sympathy with Winnie’s dancing eyes, “ Isn ’t jolly ? ” 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


265 


The carts stopped on the road, and the men taking 
their tools began leisurely to descend through the little 
wood into the bed of the river. 

“ Now then, steady ! ” said Murtagh. “ I ’ll talk to 
them first.” He advanced as he spoke along the little 
path, and standing at the edge of the river he called out 
in a loud firm voice to know what they wanted. 

The men were evidently somewhat discomfited at 
finding the island already occupied, and Hickey replied 
evasively : “ Sure, Mr. Murtagh, we didn’t expect to 
find you up here.” 

“ What do you want here ” repeated Murtagh. 

“ Well, Mr. Plunkett ’s sent us for a load o’ them 
stones ; and you know orders is orders, so you ’ll let us 
have them quiet, like a good young gentleman, won’t 
you now.? Ye’ve hed ye’re bit o’ play yesterday 
evenin’, and there ’s no gettin’ on with work when ye ’re 
hindered that way ! ” 

“ I told you yesterday that you shouldn’t touch our 
hut,” replied Murtagh, “ and you shan’t ! Mr. Plunkett 
may get his stones from the quarry.” 

“ It ’s no good standin’ blathering here ! ” exclaimed 
Phelim roughly. “ We ’ve got to have the stones, and 
there’s an end of it! Come on, Hickey; we got the 
measure of Mr. Plunkett’s tongue last night, and I don’t 
want no more of it ! ” 

“Take that for your impudence!” cried Bobbo, who 
without waiting for more snatched a stick from the heap 
of missiles and flung it at Phelim’s head. 

The stick flew harmlessly past, but a shout from the 
other children echoed Bobbo’s words, and a rapid volley 
of mud-balls, sticks, and clods of earth saluted ’ the 
onward advance of the men. So true was the aim, and 
so hard and fast did the children pelt, that Hickey and 
Phelim ran for shelter round the point of the island, and 
tried to effect a landing on the other side. 

But on the other side the water was deeper, and the 
only standing-room was on a belt of shingle close to the 
shore of the island. The children knew this well, and 


266 


CASTLE BLAIB. 


when the men emerged upon it from behind the protect 
ing screen of bushes they were greeted with such a 
shower of missiles, that Phelim, whose courage had been 
considerably undermined by the sound of Royal’s, excited 
barking, turned and fled blindly into the water. 

As he lost his footing and rolled over in the water 
deep enough to souse him completely, the children raised 
a prolonged shout of triumph, and redoubled their efforts 
to dislodge Hickey, who, while returning their attack 
with whatever he could lay his hands on, was good- 
humoredly swearing at them and imploring them to 
stop their fun. 

Suddenly in the midst of all the hubbub, over the 
noise of the children’s shouting. Royal’s barking, 
Hickey’s swearing, Phelim’s lamenting, a stern — “ What ’s 
the meaning of all this uproar ? ” made itself heard, and 
Mr. Plunkett in shooting costume burst through the 
bushes on the right bank of the river. 

Missiles were flying in every direction, and the only 
immediate answer to Mr. Plunkett’s question was a mud 
ball, which hit him on the forehead, and a stick that 
carried away his hat. 

He put his hand angrily to his head, and losing all his 
habitual command of language, exclaimed : “ What the 
devil do you mean by this t ” 

“ We mean,” cried Murtagh, who was perfectly wild 
with excitement, “that we won’t have our rights inter- 
fered with, and you may just as well know, once for all, 
that we won’t have this hut touched if all the walls in 
Ireland go unmended.” 

“ Don’t be impertinent to me, sir ; you ’ll have what- 
ever you are told to have,” returned Mr. Plunkett hotly. 

“ Where are you going ? ” he inquired of the men, 
who, taking advantage of the cessation of active hostili- 
ties, were slinking off towards the carts. 

“ Please, sir, them stones is no good at all at all,” 
Hickey ventured in answer ; “ they ’re all rubbish, every 
one of them, not worth the carting.’.’ 

“ I didn’t ask your opinion of the stones. I told you 


CASTLE BLAZE. 


267 


to fetch them. A set of lazy scoundrels ! I believe 
you ’re every one of you in league to prevent anything 
being decently done,” exclaimed Mr. Plunkett. 

“ League or no league, the hut shall not be touched ! ” 
reiterated Murtagh. 

“ We shall very soon see that,” returned Mr. Plunkett. 
“Go on to the island, and pull it down at once,” he 
added, turning to the men. “ I stand here till the work 
is begun.” 

“ I ’ll set the dog on the first one of you who attempts 
to land,” said Murtagh resolutely. 

“ Do you hear what I say to you ? ” demanded Mr. 
Plunkett, as the men stood doubtfully eyeing Royal, 
who, apparently enraged by Phelim’s appearance, was 
furiously barking. 

“ Please, sir, the dog ’s very savage ; he nearly killed 
Phelim last night,” said Hickey apologetically. 

“ You pair of cowards ! do you mean to tell me you 
are afraid of the dog .? ” exclaimed Mr. Plunkett con- 
temptuously. 

The men did not answer, but neither did they show 
the slightest inclination to move, and Winnie called out 
derisively : “ How much for standing there till the work 
is begun ? ” 

“ Do you wish me to begin it myself ? ” demanded 
Mr. Plunkett angrily of the two men. “ I tell you that 
hut has to be pulled down before I leave this spot.” 

He moved along the bank as he spoke, and prepared 
to jump on to a little island of shingle that lay in the 
bed of the stream. 

“ If you come one step nearer I ’ll set Royal upon 
you,” cried Murtagh, roused to the last pitch of defiance 
by Mr. Plunkett’s determination. 

He and Winnie were both of them holding on to 
Royal’s collar, and it was only with difficulty that they 
could restrain the dog, who seemed ready to attack 
anytliing aiid everything in his excitement. 

“ If you set your wild dog upon me I give you 
fair warning that I will shoot him,” retorted Mr, 
Plunkett. 


268 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


“ As if you dare ! ” cried Winnie incredulously. 

Mr. Plunkett’s only answer was to spring on to the 
shingle. ^ 

“At him, Royal!” cried Winnie and Murtagh in a 
breath, loosing their hold as they spoke. With a furious 
growl Royal bounded into the river. Almost instant- 
aneously Mr. Plunkett raised his gun. There was a 
loud report, then a piteous whine ; the little cloud of 
smoke cleared away ; there was a broad red streak in 
the water ; and Royal turned his dying eyes reproach- 
fully to Winnie. 

“ Oh, Murtagh ! He ’s done it, he ’s done it I ” she 
cried, with a beseeching disbelief in her voice that went 
even to Mr. Plunkett’s heart, and though the water 
was over her ankles she dashed across to the shingle 
bank. 

“ Help me to take him out, Murtagh. Don’t you see 
the water ’s carrying him down ? He can’t help himself. 
Royal, darling, I didn’t mean it ; I didn ’t think he 
would. Where are you hurt ? oh, why can’t you 
speak .? ” 

The current swept the dog towards her, she managed 
to throw her arms round his neck and to get his head 
rested upon her shoulder, while Bobbo and Murtagh 
going in to her assistance tried to lift his body. But he 
groaned so piteously at their somewhat clumsy attempt 
that they stopped, and all three stood still, and in 
speechless dismay watched the wounded dog. Royal 
seemed more content, and from his resting-place on 
Winnie’s shoulder licked away the tears that were rolling 
down her face. But after a time the children’s wet feet 
began to grow numb, and Winnie looked up and signed 
to Murtagh to try and move him now. 

He groaned again. For a moment he seemed to 
struggle convulsively, his head fell off Winnie’s shoul- 
der, his eyes looked up appealingly to hers, his limbs 
suddenly straightened, and then he was quite quiet as 
the children supported him through the water, and tried 
itenderly to lift him on to the bank. He was too heavy 


CASTLE BLAIB. 


269 


for them, and Mr. Plunkett, his hot anger past, came 
forward saying almost humbly, “ Let me help you ; ” but 
though tha children none of them answered, they turned 
their faces from him in such an unmistakable manner 
that he fell back and signed to one of the men to go and 
help them in his place. 

Thus Royal was lifted on to the right bank of the 
river ; and Winnie, sitting on the ground, took his head 
into her lap, while Murtagh, Bobbo, and Rosie stood 
round and watched. But he never moved nor groaned ; 
he was so unnaturally still that a dim terror entered into 
the children’s minds. Winnie stooped down to kiss 
him ; as she did so her fear became a certainty. 

“ Murtagh,” she said, raising a white frightened face. 
“ He — he ’s killed him.” 

Murtagh made no answer, but falling on his knees 
beside Royal he laid his cheek against the dog’s muzzle 
to feel if there were any breath. Then his mournful eyes 
and sad shake of the head confirmed Winnie’s words. 
Mr. Plunkett and the two men had known it for some 
minutes, but as Mr. Plunkett stood watching the group 
of children he felt a strange, unusual moisture rising to 
his eyes, and he turned and walked away. 

As they realised that the dog was dead, really dead, 
Rosie and Bobbo began to cry; the other two sat dry- 
eyed gazing at Royal. 

The men stood one side respecting their grief* for a 
few moments, but then they came forward and began to 
make remarks and offer consolation. 

“ He was a beautiful creathure,” said Hickey, “ and 
indeed it would serve old Plunkett right if he got shot 
with the very same gun. But there, don’t take on so, 
bless yer hearts ; the master ’ll get yez another dog as 
fine as ever this was.” 

While Pat was speaking Phelim stooped down and 
idly taking one of Royal’s paws shook it slowly back- 
wards and forwards. Winnie put out her hand to 
prevent the sacrilege, and looking up at Murtagh said, 
“ Take them away, Muatagh, all of them.” 


270 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


“ We ’d better take the dog with us and bury him,” 
said Phelim ; “ a big dog like that ’ll want buryin’.” 

“ No, no,” cried Murtagh, with a quick glance towards 
Winnie which seemed to say he would have protected 
her from the words if he could. “Come awc.y, all of 
you, and leave her alone.” 

And so Winnie was left sitting on the ground with her 
dead dog’s head resting on her lap. Bobbo and Rosie 
returned to the house to tell the sad news to Nessa. 
The two men went to find Mr. Plunkett, but Murtagh 
wandered away by himself into the woods higher up the 
river. 

The men having found Mr. Plunkett at home inquired 
what they were to do about the hut. Was it to be taken 
down ? 

“Yes, of course,” returned Mr. Plunkett testily, feeling 
strongly inclined to say on the contrary that it might be 
left standing, but ashamed of what he considered a bit 
of inconsequent weakness. 


CHAPTER XXVI. 

M urtagh in the mean time wandered alone 
through the woods above the island. The 
defence of the hut was quite forgotten, and every other 
feeling was cut short by horror. The shock of Royal’s 
death had been so sudden, so totally inconceivable 
beforehand, that it was only with great difficulty he could 
realize it now. His mind seemed in a measure 
benumbed. He went backwards and forwards through 
the woods with his hands thrust deep into his pockets. 
Dead leaves fluttered down upon his bare head and lay 
in golden drift on either side as his feet cut furrows 
through the gathered layers, sunlight glinted through the 
branches, a few birds were singing in the clear air; but 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


271 


U might have been snowing for all Murtagh knew to the 
contrary. 

Almost unconsciously a kind of instinct to be with 
Winnie in her trouble led his footsteps after a time back 
I0 where she had been left, and the first outward sounds 
which woke him from his abstraction were her violent 
sobs. A thin screen of branches had prevented him 
from seeing her as he came up, but now he looked 
through it and saw her lying upon the ground, her arms 
thrown round Royal, her face buried in his dark curly 
coat, and her whole body shaken with emotion. 

“ Royal, darling, you ’re not dead ! You can’t be 
dead, really! ” she cried passionately. Then, as her own 
sobs were the only sound and Royal lay stiff and cold 
beneath them, she wailed out : “ How could he do it ? 
How could he murder you ? ” 

“Win, don’t cry so dreadfully .C' cried Murtagh, break- 
ing through the bushes and throwing himself down 
beside her. His own voice was choked, and he tried to 
put his arms round her and kiss her. But she did not 
lift up her face; he could find nothing but the back of 
her ear to kiss through her hair, and her sobs came with 
redoubled violence. He knelt beside her with one arm 
thrown over her back and looked around, feeling per- 
fectly powerless to console her. The dull thuds of the 
picks and mallets which were demolishing the hut fell 
mechanically upon his ear, but he did' not heed them. 

Winnie sobbed on in utter abandonment of grief. 

“ Don’t cry so. Win,” he said again, laying his face 
down on her head. 

After a minute Winnie replied between her sobs : “ Go 
away, pleas^> I ’d rather be here. You can’t ever 
make him alive again ! ” 

For one moment she raised a face so swollen and 
tear-stained that Murtagh was startled at the sight of it; 
but shaking back her hair she dropped again into her 
former position with such evident desire to be alone that 
Murtagh got up and went slowly into the wood. 

He never remembered to have seen Winnie cry so, 


2/2 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


and he could not bear to think of her alone there without 
any comfort. He did not venture back to her again, 
but he wandered about near where she lay, trying to 
think of something to do to comfort her. And nothing 
seemed to be a bit of good ; he never, never could make 
Royal alive again. Oh, that dreary, dreary day ! The 
shadows began to lengthen, but still he stayed in the 
wood near Winnie, coming from time to time to peep 
through the branches and see if she still were there. 

After a while she stopped sobbing, but she scarcely 
changed her position all day, and Murtagh began to feel 
in a state of half-frightened despair. 

He did not like to speak to her, but at last he could 
bear it no longer, and after watching her for a long time 
he called almost timidly: 

“Win!” 

She did not move. He called her a little louder, then 
a third and a fourth time, but still she gave no kind of 
answer. His heart stood still with a vague fear, and, 
scarcely knowing what he expected to see, he went close 
and gently lifted some of the brown hair that fell in 
confusion over her shoulder. She was fast asleep. Her 
head still rested upon Royal’s shaggy curls, one arm was 
thrown round him, and the little face looked so white 
upon its rough black pillow that Murtagh bent very close 
before he could feel sure that she was only asleep. 
Then he could hardly have explained the relief that he 
felt. He sat down to watch beside her, but after a little 
time he thought he would go and get Nessa to come 
before she wakened again, so he left her and went 
towards the house. 

But the day was far from finished yet ; there was worse 
to come. 

As he got down into the pleasure ground he was met 
by Rosie, her face swollen and stained with crying. 

“Oh, Murtagh!” she exclaimed. “Where have you 
been all day ? I Ve been hunting for you everywhere to 
tell you. Poor Frankie ’s dead; it came by the telegraph 
to-day.” 


CASTLE BLAIR, 


273 


She burst out crying again as she spoke, but Murtagh 
did not. He looked at her blankly as though he did 
not take in the sense of the words, and then he said, 
“What?” 

“ Frankie ’s dead,” she repeated, “ and they never 
thought it would be so sudden ; and oh, Murtagh, just 
think of his being here, — being the very last time.” 

“Where’s Nessa?” said poor Murtagh* with a con- 
fused bewildered feeling that she would somehow 
contradict this. 

“ In the drawing-room,” replied Rosie, and she turned 
and followed Murtagh as he walked rapidly along. 

“ Don’t you want to cry, Murtagh ? ” she asked curi- 
ously after' a minute, her own tears stopped by astonish- 
ment at Murtagh’s way of receiving the news. “ Bobbo 
is crying so, poor fellow, up in his own room. It is so 
dreadful too, isn’t it, to think — ” Here her tears 
overpowered her again and she spoke no more. 

At the drawing-room door Murtagh was met by Nessa. 
He could not speak, and she, seeing that he knew all, 
just put her arms round him and kissed him tenderly. 

For an instant he clung to her, and a great sob shook 
his body, but then he disengaged himself and looked up 
still dry-eyed. 

“Winnie,” he said; “come to her while she ’s asleep. 
And — and don’t tell her, or she won’t come away all 
night.” 

He turned and walked down the passage and across 
the hall expecting Nessa to follow him, but at the door 
he stopped, and looking at her dress said : 

“ You ’ll be cold. I ’ll go and fetch your — ” He put 
his hands up to his temples with a dazed kind of expres- 
sion as though he could not remember the words he 
wanted, and added with an effort — “your coat and 
things.” 

He rushed up the stairs and returned with Nessa’s 
hat and jacket. He helped her into them, and then 
they set off together for the wood. Nessa stretched out 
her hand for his, and they went hand in hand the whole 
18 


274 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


way, but something in Murtagh’s manner prevented a 
word from being spoken. 

It was almost dark when they reached the spot where 
Royal lay. They found Winnie still lying beside him, 
but she was awake now and seemed calmer. She sat 
up when she saw them; Nessa knelt down beside her 
and kissed her; and though her tears began to flow 
again they were quieter and more natural. 

“You must come home now, dear,” said Nessa after 
a liUle time, gently laying her cheek against the troubled 
face that rested upon her shoulder, and almost uncon- 
scionably tightening the clasp of her arms as she thought 
of the new trouble waiting at home. 

Murtagh had stood watching them in silence, and 
now he only said: “We will cover him with branches.” 
He picked a branch of fir as he spoke and gently laid it 
upon Royal’s body. But there was in his tone such 
resolute putting on one side of his owm grief, such per- 
fect patient tenderness for Winnie, that Nessa could 
contain her tears no longer, and. she fairly sobbe'd. 

She recovered herself immediately, and her tears 
served to compose Winnie, who kissed her and got up 
and helped Murtagh to put the covering upon Royal. 
The last branch was soon laid upon his head, and then 
Winnie went slowly away with Nessa. But Murtagh 
stayed behind and plunged again into the w^ood, where 
flinging himself upon the ground, he gave w'ay to all his 
grief. It was not only grief for Frankie w^hich brought 
those short fierce sobs and then the long bursts of tears 
— tears that ran down unheeded into the ground on 
which he lay. It was everything altogether that made 
the child so supremely miserable. 

How long he lay there he did not know, but night 
had come wdien at last sick and exhausted he sat up and 
leaned against a tree. 

It was time to be going home, but he could not face 
the school-room full of children. He would sleep there, 
he thought ; and he was lying down again at the foot of 
the tree, when it occurred to him that the hut would be 


CASTLE BLAITi. 


275 


a better place. So he got up, and with some difficulty, 
because of the darkness, he crossed the river and groped 
his way to where the little island path made an opening 
in the thick brushwood. He drew himself up the bank 
and advanced slowly, stretching out his bands to feel 
for the door. He groped about unable, of course, to 
find it, till presently his foot struck against something, a 
covered fire apparently, for a shower of sparks flew up- 
wards. He jumped to one side, and a bright blaze 
flaming out displayed to his astounded eyes the scattered 
rubbish, which was all that remained of their beloved 
hut. The stones had been taken away, but the door 
and broken pieces of the roof lay there upon the ground. 

So utterly astonished was he that at first he could 
scarcely believe his eyes. Then he remembered the 
sounds which had echoed through the woods in the 
earlier part of the day, and with a sudden revulsion of 
feeling he exclaimed aloud: 

“ The coward ! he has taken advantage of ” 

“Ay, and it isn’t only your little play-place he’s 
turned you out of,” said a familiar voice behind him in 
the bushes, “ but my father and mother ’s to be turned 
out of the place they ’ve held backwards and forwards 
this hundred years, because they can’t pay the rent 
since it ’s riz upon them last Michaelmas.” 

Murtagh started and turned round to see Pat O’Toole 
standing in the full blaze of the firelight. 

“ Oh, Pat, Pat ! ” he cried, springing towards him, , 
“you ’ve come back at last.” 

“ I couldn’t stop away at all,” he replied. “ I was up 
in the mountains, and one and another of the boys gave 
me food, but I used to come down o’ nights, an’ one 
night my mother was out fetching the goat, and the 
tears were running down as she walked along, and so I 
couldn’t help it at all, but I just up and told her I was 
there. And look here, Mr. Murtagh,” he continued, 
dropping his voice and coming closer, “ the boys say he 
isn’t a bit o’ good, and now he ’s riz the rents there ’s 
the Dalys ’ll have to go out, an’ the Cannons; and 


276 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


there ’s many ’ll die o’ distress with the winter coming 
on, and the bad potatoes an’ all ; an’ I ’ve been watchin’ 
for you because I thought ye ’d help me. And look 
here, Mr. Murtagh, if ye ’ll get me a gun some way I ’ll 
shoot him, and ha’ done with it.” 

Pat’s voice sank into a fierce hoarse whisper as he 
ended, and his face was bent down close to Murtagh’s. 
Murtagh did not answer at once ; he could hardly be- 
lieve that he was not dreaming, and Pat continued : 
“ It ’s a benefactor you ’ll be to the country. There ’s 
many and many a one ’ll bless you far an’ wide. There’s 
Jim Cannon, brother to Cannon down beyant there, has 
his wife and children in the Union, and he’s wanderin’ 
about, daren’t come home and do a bit o’ decent work 
because Plunkett ’s informed against him for a Fenian. 

“ And there’s Mike Coyle and his wife and children 
had to turn out and shift for themselves, because he 
wouldn’t let the old man keep them with him at home 
in his own place. And there ’s my mother and father 
turned out of a place we ’ve had from one to another 
this hundred year ; and Johnny Worsted taken from his 
work, and his old father and mother dependin’ upon 
him, and sent to prison for nothing in the world but 
knocking over a couple o’ little hares. And look now, 
Mr. Murtagh,” he added, dropping his voice again to a 
cautious whisper, “ if he was killed out o’ the way it ’d 
all come right, and I told the boys how we were bound 
together in a tribe like, and you ’d never fail us in a 
pinch. There ’s many and many a heart ’ll be made 
glad through the country. Isn’t he oppressin’ every 
one of us, and changin’ all the old ways that was 
good enough for them as was better than him ! And 
look at yerselves ; isn ’t it just the same way with yez ? 
Isn ’t he tyrannizin’ over yez, and doesn’t mind a word 
anybody spakes to him, but only havin’ everything his 
own way.? He doesn’t care for any one’s feelin’s ! Just 
look at the way he massacrated Miss Winnie’s beautiful 
dog this mornin’, and she nearly cried her heart out. over 
A. But he don’t care, he ’d do it again to-morrow ; and 


CASTLE BLAIB. 


277 


only took advantage of ye bein’ thinkin’ o’ that, to come 
and pull down your hut that was built before ever he 
came here.” 

Murtagh listened now without attempting to interrupt. 
He had hated Mr. Plunkett before, but nothing had 
ever equaled the feelings with which he regarded him 
to-day. The shooting of Royal, their beautiful Royal, 
who was almost like another brother to them, was too 
cruel. And then when the news of Frankie’s death had 
come and they were absorbed by their double misery, to 
take advantage of that to pull down their hut ! There 
was something so revolting in such conduct that Mur- 
tagh could only think of the man with disgust as well as 
hate. 

Pat’s words stirred up all the fierce passion of last 
night, and the feelings with which he had heard Nessa’s 
story surged up again in his heart. As he listened the 
blood went coursing swiftly through his veins. Was not 
this a way to end it all ? All the country round was 
suffering as they were. The people looked to him to 
help them ; would not this be doing something indeed 
for freedom ! He never in the least realized what it 
was ; how could he, a child of eleven } But it presented 
itself vaguely to him as a grand and terrible action. 
Something in him spoke loudly against Pat’s reasoning, 
but so thoroughly was his whole nature warped by the 
excitement of the last month that he mistook his true 
instinct for cowardice, asking himself if John of Procida 
would have hesitated so. 

And while his decision was hanging thus in the 
balance, Pat brought before him the picture of Winnie’s 
grief and Mr. Plunkett’s indifference. The remem- 
brance flashed through his mind of Hickey’s words in 
the morning — “It would serve old Plunkett right to be 
shot with the very same gun,” and with a sudden gust of 
passion he decided. 

“ Yes,” he said, “ I ’ll do it ! you shall have the very 
gun he shot Royal with.” 

“ I knew ye ’d help us ! ” replied Pat exultingly. “ I 


278 


CASTLE BLAIB. 


told the boys you wouldn’t fail us ; ye have too much o* 
the real old spirit in ye.” 

It was done ; he had given his promise ; but if he had 
only hesitated one minute longer all might have been 
different. Pat had only just answered when a sound of 
scrambling on the other bank made Murtagh exclaim in 
a hurried whisper, “ Hide ! ” and there was barely time 
for Pat to conceal himself in the bushes before Bobbo 
appeared followed by Nessa. 

Poor little Nessa looked very white and tired, and a 
faint struggle to smile died away in the attempt. 

“ I was nervous,” she said ; “ I could not go to bed 
while you were out, so Bobbo came with me. He 
thought you would be here. Will you not come in 
now ? ” 

“ Yes,” said Murtagh, “ I ’ll come, you go on first.” 

Nessa looked at him in some surprise. She had ex- 
pected to find him prostrated with grief in some out-of- 
the-way corner, but here he was standing up by a 
blazing fire, his cheeks flushed, and his eyes bright with 
excitement. He really was incomprehensible. 

“ Our hut gone ! ” exclaimed Bobbo in dismay, stand- 
ing still and surveying the ruins. “ He can’t have been 
so mean — ! To take it to-day!” And with the 
remembrance of all the day’s troubles the tears came 
into his eyes. 

“Yes,” said Murtagh. Then in a hurried loud voice 
he continued : “ Never mind ; let us go home. Get on 
the stones and help Nessa down.” 

His manner half-frightened Nessa; she wondered 
whether he were ill. She followed Bobbo, however, and 
Pat putting his head out from his place of concealment 
Whispered to Murtagh : 

“ To-morrow night, here.” 

“ All right, here ! ” Murtagh replied, and he hastened 
alter the others. 

Nessa put her hand through his arm as they walked 
along. Murtagh knew that she meant it partly as a 
caress, and he almost wished she would not. He was 


CASTLE BLAIB. 


279 


in no mood for caresses. They spoke little. Murtagh 
asked what time it was, and was told it must be eleven 
now. They had waited till ten, Nessa said, before they 
started to look for him. 

As they were nearing home Murtagh roused himself 
with an effort from his thoughts. 

“ Poor Nessa ! ” he said ; “ you must be nearly dead 
tramping about like this. Why did you come for me ? — 
I ’d have done very well out there.” 

“ I couldn’t have you out there. I did not know 
where you were; I was frightened.” And there was a 
little tremble in Nessa’s voice that melted away a good 
deal of Murtagh’s excitement. 

In the school-room he found a little table prepared 
for supper. 

“You have eaten nothing all day,” said Nessa, and 
she insisted upon his sitting down and trying to eat 
while she made some tea from a kettle that stood boiling 
on the hob. 

To please her he tried to eat, and under the influence 
of her gentle ways and little tender cares he grew 
quieter and quieter. At last he asked hesitatingly “ if 
she had told Winnie yet .? ” 

“Yes,” she replied. “It was no use to keep it for 
the poor child to hear in the morning. When she was 
in bed I told her.” 

Murtagh sat looking into the fire for a few minutes 
with tears glistening in his eyes, and then he asked : 

“What did she — .?” 

“Poor little thing! — she could not believe it at first, 
and then, then it was very sad. She seemed to feel so 
much about Frankie having given her Royal ; it made it 
worse for her. She has cried herself to sleep again now. 
I went in to look at her before we came out.” 

Nessa spoke a little hesitatingly, saddened by the 
recollection of Winnie’s grief, and not knowing what 
effect her words would have upon Murtagh. But she 
was relieved to see tears flowing over his cheeks, they 
were more natural than his previous state of excitement 


28 o 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


“ I think I ’ll go to bed,” he said in a choked voice, 
getting up to say good night. 

“ Good night, dear ! ” and she held him tight in her 
arms for a moment as she kissed him. 

Her tenderness brought back all the soft natural 
grief for his cousin, and when he was in bed he gave 
not a thought to Pat ; but, like Winnie, cried himself to 
sleep with his mind full of thoughts of Frankie’s dear 
loving ways. 


CHAPTER XXVH. 



EXT morning poor Royal was buried. Hickey 


asked the children w'here they would like his 
grave to be dug, and Winnie chose the point of the 


island. 


• With many tears he was taken across the river and 
laid in his last resting-place. The sobs that escaped 
from Winnie as the earth was thrown in upon him shook 
Murtagh’s heart and stirred up again his bitter indigna- 
tion against Mr. Plunkett, but he stood silent beside her 
till the last shovelful of earth was patted down into its 
place. Good-natured Hickey had begged a rose-tree 
from Bland, which he planted for them at the head of 
the grave; then he took his tools and trudged away, 
telling them not to fret. Bobbo called Rosie to see the 
desolation of the hut, and Winnie and Murtagh were left 
standing by the grave alone. 

“ Don’t stay here. Win,” said Murtagh, putting his 
arm round her neck. “ It will make you so dreadfully 
miserable, as it did yesterday. Come away into the 
wood, and let us be together. And look here. Win,” he 
added, the indignation breaking out at last. “There’s 
one thing, you ’ll be well paid out. He ’s going to get 
what he deserves at last.” 

“Thai won’t do any good,” returned Winnie dis- 


CASTLE BLAin. 


281 


consolately. “ But I hope he will,” she added with sud- 
den anger. “ It will serve him right. Oh, Murtagh, how 
could any one be so cowardly and so cruel to shoot at 
him when he was in the water like that — so close to 
him he couldn’t possibly miss. And then — then Royal 
looked as if he thought I ’d sent him in on purpose, and 
he couldn’t understand when I told him we didn’t ; and 
— and Frankie said he knew I’d never let any one hurt 
him ; and now Frankie ’s dead, and I can’t tell him about 
it either; and oh, Myrrh, doesn’t it seem as if every- 
body was dying } ” The end of Winnie’s sentence was 
almost lost in tears. 

The two children had been moving away while she 
spoke with their arms round each other’s necks, and 
now they wandered into the wood and spent the rest of 
the morning walking up and down together, their con- 
versation a confused medley of grief, anger, and sad, 
loving recollections of the doings of their two dead. 

Towards the end anger predominated. Murtagh 
repeated to Winnie all that Pat had told him of the suf- 
ferings of the people about. He told her, too, that Pat 
was in hiding at home ; that he was going to be revenged 
on Mr. Plunkett, and that he (Murtagh) was going to 
help him. He did not tell her exactly what he was 
going to do, something within him prevented him from 
speaking of that. Winnie listened eagerly. 

“ I do hope he will succeed,” she said ; and just fancy. 
Myrrh, if he does set all the people free, he will be just 
like John of Procida that Nessa was telling us about.” 

And for the moment Murtagh wished that he were 
himself the one wJio was to shoot Mr. Plunkett. 

In the afternoon Nessa went to Ballyboden to buy 
what was necessary for the children’s mourning, and 
Rosie eagerly accepted her invitation to go too, and help 
her in the choice. They took Elbe with them in the 
carriage, and the other three being left alone spent a 
half-sad, half-bitter afternoon wandering idly about 
together. 

Theresa Curran, coming up to the Castle on a mes* 


282 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


sage, met them in the avenue, and curtsying deeply told 
them with some shyness that “ they down at the village 
was all very glad to think it was Mr. Murtagh now 
would be master over them some day.” 

Murtagh did not understand what she meant, and 
when she explained that “ sure, after the master, it ’ll 
belong to you and yours now,” he exclaimed in angry 
surprise : 

“You mean that you ’re glad ! Aren’t you ashamed 
to be so cruel and unkind "i ” 

Theresa saw that she had made a mistake, and replied 
in some confusion : “ ’ Deed, an’ we ’re all very sorry for 
him, poor little gentleman, but we ’ll be very glad to have 
you reign over us, Mr. Murtagh dear. There ’ll be ' a 
stop put then, maybe, to some o’ the doings goes on now. 
Every one hunted out o’ their homes, and no more 
account made of it than if they was wild animals.” 

Theresa’s complaint was bitter enough, seeing that 
her mother was one of the people who were to be 
“hunted out o’ their homes;” but it was only Irish wit 
that led her to make it at that moment. It seemed to 
her the readiest means of diverting Murtagh’s attention 
from her piece of gaucherie, and she was not mistaken. 
Murtagh inquired at once who else was being turned 
out, and nearly an hour was spent in listening to Theresa 
giving the same account as Pat had given of the village 
discontent. 

“ There ! ” said Murtagh as she passed on ; “ they all 
say just the same thing.” 

“ And I don’t wonder,” replied Bobbo ; “ when he 
could do what he did yesterday he could do anything. 
Why if it wasn’t for him being so unjust poor Royal 
would be safe away with you, instead of — ” 

. “ I don’t think he has ever done anything but make 
people unhappy all his life ! ” said Winnie, her tears 
overflowing again as she spoke. “ Even poor little 
Frankie, he made him miserable the last time he was 
here, and if it hadn’t been for him we might have beea 
, there at least to say good-by.” 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


2S3 


Still an hour afterwards, when Winnie and Bobbo 
feeling that they must do something, went to see the 
cows milked, and Murtagh was left alone, misgivings, 
which took the form of a natural shrinking from what he 
was going to do, assailed his mind. He tried to combat 
his doubts. This was a right and a great thing to do. 
It was a just retribution that Mr. Plunkett should be 
shot with the very gun he had used against Royal. All 
the people would be able to spend this winter in their 
homes. If Frankie could know things he would be 
glad. 

Instinctive right was strong enough within him, how- 
ever, to make it impossible* for him to feel quite clear, 
and it was with a sense of relief that he saw the carriage 
coming up the avenue, and ran to the hall door to meet it. 

There were a great many parcels to be taken out, and 
before they were all disposed of Winnie and Bobbo 
made their appearance. 

“Oh, Winnie ! ” cried Rosie, “ Nessa has chosen such 
pretty hats for us ! Ellie is to have a little round one, 
but we are to have felts turned up at one side, with a 
long black feather going right down over our hair.” 

Mhnnie looked at her in astonishment. “ I do be- 
lieve,” she began contemptuously; but whatever she had 
been going to say was apparently too bitter, for she 
broke off suddenly and turned away while her eyes filled 
with tears. 

Rosie reddened so painfully that Nessa felt quite sorry 
for her, and giving her some parcels asked her to take 
them to her bed-room; Rosie escaped up-stairs, and 
Nessa soon followed to take off her things. 

Then came tea, and Nessa came to the school-room 
to pour it out. She did not often honor the tea-table 
with her presence, but her coming was always a treat, 
and to-day she seemed only to think of what she could 
do to please the children. At another time Murtagh 
would have appreciated her gentle kindness, but now 
the time for him to perform his promise to Pat was 
drawing so near, that he was too much excited to be able 


284 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


to feel anything save the strain of trying to be quiet and 
to appear unconcerned. 

He had decided yesterday evening on leaving the 
island that the time to possess himself of the gun would 
be while Mr. Plunkett was down at supper. Supper at 
the Red House was a kind of tea-dinner, at seven o’clock, 
and as that hour approached all doubts were thrown 
aside, and his heart beat high in anticipation. He could 
not sit still through the whole of tea-time, but after drink- 
ing a cup of milk and shaking his head at all offers of 
food he presently pushed back his chair and went away. 

It was already dusk, so he went out into the park, and 
hovered about near the Red House till the ringing of 
the supper-bell announced that his time had come. Thfen 
it was the work of a minute to climb on the roof of the 
dairy, and from thence into Mr. Plunkett’s dressing- 
room, the window of which was shutterless. The room 
was, of course, quite dark, but Murtagh had matches in 
his pocket, and with trembling fingers lit the candle. 
He knew the gun was kept in a cupboard in the corner 
among walking-sticks and fishing-tackle. He found it in 
its usual place, found also the cartridges belonging to it, 
possessed himself of both, extinguished the light, and 
noiselessly let himself down again on to the dairy roof. 
In another minute he was safe outside the garden, 
hurrying away towards the island. 

It was the first time in his life that he had held a gun 
in his hands, and the touch of the steel barrel made him 
shudder. He was not quite free from doubt either as to 
whether it would not go off, but he was burning with 
excitement ; and soon he stood amongst the ruins of the 
hut where, by the light of a more cautious fire than the 
one he had kicked into flames the night before, Pat sat 
waiting for him. 

“ There,” he cried, putting the gun into Pat’s hands. 
“ Now when are you going to do it ? ” 

“ To-morrow evening ’ll be my chance. He ’s going 
to dine up at the Castle to-morrow, and on his way home 
is when I’m to do it,” replied Pat. “Then I’m to 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


285 


throw the gun down beside him and go straight away off 
again, and being his own gun there ’s no one will be 
suspected.’’ 

But there seemed something treacherous to Murtagh 
in the idea of killing Mr. Plunkett in the dark, on his 
way home from dinner at the Castle. 

“Oh no, Pat,” he exclaimed, “I don’t like that. Do 
it out in the field in the morning, and let him know what 
it ’s for. Couldn’t you show me how to do it ? ” 

“Whisht, sir; ye don’t know anything about it,” 
replied Pat, grasping the gun. “ Leave it to me and I ’ll 
settle it right enough.” 

“Yes, but, Pat, you mustn’t do it that cowardly way,” 
persisted Murtagh. 

“Now, Mr. Murtagh, ye’re talking foolish,” said Pat, 
who seemed to have grown years older in his short 
absence. “Whatever way we do it mustn’t we do it 
sure an’ certain ? and if it ’s me ’s to do it mustn’t I do 
it my own way ? What good would it do ye for the polis 
to take me 1 Leave it to me and he ’ll know what it ’s 
for sure enough. Ye don’t want to be goin’ back off 
your word, do ye ? ” 

“ No, indeed, I don’t ! ” cried Murtagh with vivid 
recollection of Yfinnie’s grief and Theresa’s stories. 

“ They said I ’d never be able to do it right,” pursued 
Pat; “ but gettin’ a gun was the only thing that bothered 
me; now my mother’ll stop where she is and die in the 
old home; and it isn’t only her — there’s many’ll say a 
prayer for ye for this evening’s work, Mr. Murtagh. 
They say what he wants is to turn us all out and get 
foreigners in bit by bit. It ’s an Englishman he ’s put 
into Dolan’s farm. But if we mayn’t live at home in our 
own place where is it we ’ll live at all 1 We ’re made no 
more account of than if we was rats and mice.” 

Then followed detail after detail that only served to 
inflame Murtagh’s heated brain the more. Neither of 
the boys really knew anything of what he was talking 
about. They only heard that people had to pay more 
than they had ever paid before for their homes, and that 


286 


CASTLE BLATU. 


in some cases they were turned out of them altogether. 
They did not hear that where rents had been raised it 
was in consequence of expensive and necessary improve- 
ments ; where tenants had been turned out it was always 
for a solid reason. Rigorous justice had been dealt to 
all. But the people did not like such ways, and Pat 
repeated to Murtagh the grumblings of the worst and 
most discontented among them. 

Murtagh could have sat there all night listening to his 
stories, but it would not do for him to attract attention 
by being late again this evening; so after a time he bade 
Pat good night and hurried homewards. In his present 
state of excitement he could not venture into the school- 
room, but sending Peggy in to say that he had gone to 
bed he went straight to his own room. 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 

H e tossed and tumbled all niglit long, wakening 
Bobbo sometimes, and frightening him by the 
wild things he called out in his sleep, and next morning 
when he woke he was in such a state of nervous exalta- 
tion as made even Bobbo’s companionship almost too 
painful to be borne. Only now did he fully realize that 
his share in this enterprise was done, and the greatness 
of the catastrophe he was helping to bring about seemed 
to begin to dawn upon him as the time for its fulfillment 
approached. His heart thumped against his side; his 
lips and hands were hot and dry. How was he to spend 
his day in the companionship of the others without 
betraying himself? 

He knew that he could not keep away from them all 
day without causing remark and perhaps search; so he 
tried to force himself to feel calmer, and when the 
breakfast-bell summoned him to the dining-room he went 
in and took his usual seat at the table. ^ 


CASTLE BLAIE. 


287 


But so startling was his appearance that Nessa ex- 
claimed anxiously: “ Murtagh dear, you are ill ! ” 

His uncle looked up, and was shocked too at the face 
that his eyes rested upon. 

“ Why, my boy,” he said kindly, “ what is the matter 
with you ? Do you feel pain anywhere ? ” 

“I am quite well, thank you,” said Murtagh. He 
had felt as if he could not make his lips frame the short 
sentence, but the words came out in a clear, loud tone 
that astonished him. His uncle continued to look anx- 
iously at him. Nessa said no more, but put a cup of 
tea beside his plate, laying her hand for one instant on 
his head as she passed back to her own seat. Her 
touch thrilled through him in a way that was almost pain. 
He drank some of the tea, and then his heart began to 
beat less rapidly; so that when his uncle asked him if 
he had slept well he was able to answer more naturally : 
“Yes, thank you.” 

“ Awfully queerly ! ” said Bobbo ; “ you were shouting 
out all sorts of things all the time ! ” 

His uncle made no remark, and breakfast proceeded 
in silence. But when it was over Mr. Blair called Nessa 
back as she was leaving the room and told her that she 
had better send for the doctor and let him see Murtagh. 

“ It can do no harm, at all events,” he said, “ and 
the child looks ill.” 

Breakfast had done Murtagh good, but he was in a 
state of feverish unrest. He made an effort to control 
himself, and talked loud, and tried to “chaff” the 
children when they hazarded surmises as to what might 
be the matter with him ; but he was glad at last to take 
refuge in saying that he did not feel very well, and 
throwing himself upon the school-room sofa he lay for 
the rest of that miserable morning with his eyes fixed 
upon its brown moreen back. 

Every distant banging of a door, every step in the 
passage, every sudden raising of voices, caused his 
heart almost to stand still with expectation, for in his 
excitement yesterday evening he had not quite clearly 


288 , 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


understood whether Pat did or did not intend to change 
the plan of action he had described. All he knew was 
that he had done his share, he had given the gun, and 
now at any moment Mr. Plunkett might be killed with 
it. 

He did not shrink, but as the time approached his 
mind had become so filled with the horror of the deed 
that he felt not one grain of the exultation he had 
expected. Still he did not shrink. If any one had 
offered to undo for him all that he had done he would 
not have accepted the offer, for he clung to his belief 
that this was a great action. But though he would not 
have gone back, there came once or twice underneath 
all a pricking doubt which for the moment turned his 
state of expectation into agony. 

Could it be that he was all wrong ? Yesterday even- 
ing Pat had crushed the dawning of this thought by the 
assertion that it was a doubt only worthy of a child, and 
by the tales of injustice with which he had so adroitly 
proceeded to fill Murtagh’s mind. But his description 
of the way the gun was to be used was altogether dif- 
ferent from anything Murtagh had conceived, and it was 
impossible quite to shake off the conviction that it must 
be cowardly to shoot at a man in the dark when he 
suspects no danger. 

Twice during the morning this conviction grew so 
strong as almost to make the whole truth flash upon 
Murtagh, but he rejected it. It was impossible. Pat’s 
way of doing it might be cowardly, but the deed itself 
must be great, and as one after another of Pat’s and 
Theresa’s stories came back into his mind he felt per- 
suaded again that he was right. 

The morning passed away; the terrible news that 
Murtagh lay expecting did not come ; and it was just 
luncheon time when Rosie, returning from a message to 
Nessa’s room, remarked that Mr. Plunkett had been 
looking over papers in the study all day, and that some 
lunch had just gone up for him on Uncle Blair’s tray. 
Then it had not happened yet, and it could not happen 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


289 


for some time to come. Murtagh scarcely knew if he 
were relieved to hear it, but the strain of momentary 
expectation was gone, and he began to feel tolerably 
sure now that Pat intended to keep to the plan he had 
described. 

The doctor came after lunch, but he could make 
nothing of Murtagh’s state, and went away saying that 
he would call again to-morrow. 

As Mr. Blair had seemed anxious, Nessa went to the 
study to tell him what the doctor had said, and after a 
time, Murtagh, who had remained standing by the draw- 
ing-room window, heard through the open door the sound 
of Mr. Plunkett’s voice and Mr. Blair’s as they advanced 
with her towards the hall door. They were not think- 
ing of him apparently, for they were talking of some 
business matter. Mr. Plunkett went out, and Mr. Blair 
called after him : “ Seven o’clock dinner, remember, 
Plunkett.” 

Yes, and after that seven o’clock dinner! As Mur- 
tagh stood watching Mr. Plunkett walk briskly away 
over the grass all his horror of the way Pat had chosen 
for the execution of his plan came back upon him in full 
force. Surely, surely, it was treacherous to kill a man 
in the dark, when he was on his way home from your 
very own house. He stood immovable, his eyes fixed 
upon Mr. Plunkett, his head feeling as though it were 
really turning with conflicting thoughts, till Mr. Plunkett 
disappeared behind some distant bushes. Then some 
words of his uncle’s fell upon his ears. He was talking 
to Nessa in the hall. 

“Yes, all things considered,” he was saying, “it is 
strange, isn’t it, little one, that that man should be risk- 
ing his life every day for Murtagh’s benefit ” 

Murtagh could hardly believe his senses. What was 
his uncle talking about 

Nessa apparently did not understand either. 

“ How do you mean for Murtagh ? ” she asked. 

“ I thought I had told you how he constantly receives 
threatening letters in consequence of the improvements 

19 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


290 


he is making in the estate. Many of these improve- 
ments will bear no fruit till long after my time, and now 
that poor little Frankie is gone Murtagh is the person 
W'ho will profit by them. I remarked that to Plunkett 
to-day, when he was talking to me about this ejectment 
business, and I asked him why he went on with it. He 
said, ‘ It is my duty, sir.’ ” Mr. Blair had spoken slowly, 
and he ended with a little sigh. 

“ But surely. Uncle Blair,” asked Nessa, as Mr. Blair 
moved away, “ they could never really shoot him ? ” 

“ I believe,” replied Mr. Blair' “ that if it were not 
well known that he always carries a loaded pistol he 
would be shot at to-morrow. Now the risk is too great, 
for they know that if they miss him he is not likely to 
miss them. His perfect fearlessness is greatly in his 
favor. 

“ Oh dear, what a terrible, dreadful, place ! ” sighed 
Nessa, as her uncle left her standing in the hall. She 
hated to hear of these things; they made her feel as 
though she would like just to lock herself up in her 
bedroom and stay there all the rest of her natural life. 

On his side of the drawing-room door Murtagh stood 
horror-stricken at the revelation that Mr. Plunkett was 
deliberately risking his life for his benefit, at the time 
that he was consenting to a plot to kill Mr. Plunkett. 
He understood only in the vaguest manner how it came 
about that it was for his benefit ; still his uncle’s words 
were not to be mistaken, and the mere fact that Mr. 
Plunkett knew the danger and braved it deliberately, 
was in itself enough to arouse in that impulsive little 
heart something akin to sympathy. Every generous feel- 
ing in him was set at war with what Pat was going to do, 
but still he felt with an accuteness of suffering beyond 
his years that the cause of the people was just the same. 
If it had been right before that Mr. Plunkett should die, 
it was right now. What should he do ? It had become 
odious in him to have helped Pat, but Pat was just as 
right as ever, and in passionate defence of him he 
entsred the hall, exclaiming: 


CASTLE BLAIR, 


291 


“ Nessa, you and Uncle Blair don’t know how he does 
things. You don’t know how he turns the people out of 
their houses, and sends them to prison for nothing, and 
sees them starving in the winter-time and doesn’t care. 
No wonder they hate him. No wonder they want to kill 
him! Every one says if Uncle Blair would go about 
himself things would be very different. He may make 
money, but oh ! I wish it could never be for me. I 
would rather starve than have that money that ’s robbed 
from them.” 

“ He is not robbing them,” exclaimed Nessa, opening 
her great gray eyes indignantly ; “ and even if he were 
it ’s too dreadful hating like that and watching to kill 
people. I ’d rather be oppressed all my life than be 
guilty of a cowardly murder.” 

“ It ’s only what the Sicilians did,” answered Murtagh. 
“ It ’s not right that a tyrant should go on doing what he 
pleases.” 

“It’s not what the Sicilians did,” returned Nessa; 
“they fought a brave hand-to-hand struggle; they did 
not secretly murder a man who was going fearlessly 
about amongst them; and what they did do they did 
only after having tried every other means in their power. 
Besides, they fought against real tyranny, and Mr. 
Plunkett is not tyrannizing over these people ; I know 
he is not, Murtagh. Uncle Blair has told me about it 
lots of times. He ’s trying all he can to make things 
better for the people, only they are so unreasonable ; 
they expect to have everything done for them, and they 
don’t want to give anything in exchange. It is quite 
fair when a lot of expensive improvements have been 
made that the rent should be raised; and then when 
people are drunken and worthless and won’t take care 
of their land of course they have to be turned out. Mr. 
Plunkett may bt disagreeable,” she added, “ but I don’t 
see why they need hate him for that. We hate people, 
I suppose, when they are wicked ; but he isn’t wicked ; 
they are wicked when they can think for one minute of 
such mean, cowardly revenge.” 


292 


CASTLE BLAIB. 


“ You don’t know, Nessa. He is wicked. He must 
be wicked. You ’ll drive me perfectly mad if you talk 
like that. I believe everything ’s all wrong together and 
nothing ever can be right.” 

And with this confused utterance of the despair that 
was fast possessing him Murtagh would have rushed 
away out of doors, but Nessa caught him in her arms, 
and thinking that her indignation had hurt him, ex- 
claimed penitently: 

“Murtagh dear, I didn’t mean you. Of course I 
never meant that for one minute. I know very well 
that whatever else you are you could never be cruel and 
cowardly.” 

He did not speak ; he had no right to her faith, no 
right to her love. He disengaged himself as quickly as 
he could and rushed away, he didn’t care where — any- 
where, anywhere to escape from the thoughts that came 
hurrying upon him now. But he made one last effort 
still to combat them. Nessa did not know, Mr. Blair 
did not know all that went on. They only heard Mr. 
Plunkett’s account ; he had heard the people’s side. He 
called to mind story after story to fortify himself in his 
refusal to believe Nessa; but more than ever did he hate 
the manner in which Pat had decided to do the deed. 

If only he had had the slightest idea where Pat was 
to be found he would have gone to him, and insisted 
that it should be done openly. But he had not. He 
only knew that he was not to be on the island. They 
had decided that it was an unsafe place to stay because 
of the children. Mrs. O’Toole might know. Murtagh 
went to her, but she declared that she knew nothing 
about Pat’s hiding-place ; and whether she knew or not 
no power of Murtagh’s could draw the information from 
her. In despair he returned to the park. There was 
nothing to be done but to let things take their course. 
After all wasn’t Pat perhaps right ; since he was to do it 
hadn’t he a right to choose his own way ? Wasn’t it 
weak to want to stop it now ? 

Scarcely knowing where he went Murtagh neverthe- 


CASTLE BLAIE. 


293 


less kept near the Red House, declaring to himself that 
things must now take their course, but at the same time 
feeling as though he in some measure protected Mr. 
Plunkett by keeping close to him. 

At last he threw himself upon the ground under a 
hedge, and he had not been there many minutes when 
steps and voices on the other side roused him from his 
miserable struggle. 

He sat up, discovered that he was sitting under the 
hedge of Mr. Plunkett’s back garden, and as he began 
to take note of external things he became aware that 
Mr. Plunkett was walking along the path on the other 
side of the hedge carrying his little daughter in his arms. 
There were gaps in the thickness of the hedge, and 
Murtagh could see the pair quite distinctly. The child’s 
head rested lovingly upon her father’s shoulder, the 
golden hair 'scattered a little over his sleeve. One arm 
was round his neck, and the delicate little face was illu- 
mined by that look of perfect contentment which is 
almost more beautiful than a smile. 

“ How nice it is that you are so strong, Fardie,” she 
said caressingly as they passed close by Murtagh. 

“Are you comfortable, dear.?” asked Mr. Plunkett. 

“Yes, very,” she replied with a little sigh of pleasure. 

They took one turn in silence down the path and back 
again. Then little Marion spoke again, but this time 
there was a troubled sound in her voice. 

“ Don’t be late to-night, father, will you ? ” 

“Not very, my pet,” replied Mr. Plunkett, “but you 
must be sound asleep long before I come.” 

“ I ’ll shut up my eyes and try, Fardie, but I can’t go 

to sleep when you ’re out because ” And here the 

little voice trembled and stopped short. 

“Because what, dear?” said Mr. Plunkett, bending 
his head a little so that his cheek touched her forehead. 

“ Because I think such dreadful things when I ’m in 
the dark, and I get so dreadfully, dreadfully frightened, 
Fardie, lest those wicked men might kill you ! ” 

The last words came out in a low tone, as though she 


294 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


feared that uttering them might make what she dreaded 
more probable, and putting her other arm up round her 
father’s neck she clung to him tightly. 

“Who let you hear of such things? ” exclaimed Mr. 
Plunkett in the stern voice that Murtagh knew well. 

“Mother often cries when you’re out,” said Marion; 
“ and she says perhaps you ’ll be brought in dead ! But, 
Fardie, you mustn’t, because I couldn't bear it ! ” 

Mr. Plunkett did not speak immediately; then he 
said : 

“ My little daughter, you mustn’t mind everything you 
hear people say, but if such a thing ever did happen you 
will be my own brave child, won’t you? — and you will 
like to think afterwards that your father died at his 
work ! ” 

“No, no, Fardie, I couldn’t be brave then!” cried 
Marion. “ I couldn’t stay alive with only mother ! You 
won’t let them do it ? Promise, father ! ” 

At that moment “ mother’s ” voice made itself heard, 
calling : “ Marion, Marion, come in I How could you 
keep her out so late, James ? ” 

“ No, no, my pet ; they shan’t do it if I can help it 1 ” 
replied Mr. Plunkett, kissing her and hastily setting her 
down. “ Now put all such ideas out of your head, and 
run in to your mother; she ’s calling you.” 

The child went slowly away and Mr. Plunkett looking 
after her said sadly : 

“ My poor little one, I suppose it will come upon you 
some day soon ; and yet, God knows, I am doing the 
best I can for them ! ” 

He spoke to himself, but the words were loud enough 
to reach Murtagh’s ears, and they told him more than 
years of explanations could have done. 

For the moment he felt as if he could almost have 
loved Mr. Plunkett He dashed out of the ditch and 
away across the park. Find Pat he must and would. 
He saw it all in its true light now I How could he have 
helped in such a fiendish plan ? 

It was easier to determine to find Pat than to find 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


295 


him. Murtagh went back again to Mrs. O’Toole, but 
she either could not or would not help him. In the 
woods by the island, on every island in their part of the 
river, in the shrubberies, in every clump of trees that 
dotted the park, he searched but searched in vain ; and 
while he looked it grew dark. 

But though he hurried from place to place he was 
comparatively calm now. He had quite made up his 
mind what to do, and his energy was the energy of 
resolution. Pat evidently intended to keep to the late 
hour he had named, and before any mischief could be 
done he must come into the park and station himself 
between the Castle and the Red House. There Murtagh 
was almost sure that he could not miss him, and since 
it seemed impossible to find him now there was nothing 
to be done but to wait. He was not going to betray 
Pat by warning Mr. Plunkett if he could help it, and 
having thoroughly searched the park he watched Mr. 
Plunkett without any fear as he crossed it on his way to 
dinner. 

Then he entered the house, and fetching himself a 
cup of milk and some bread from the servants’ hall he 
sat quietly enough upon the door-step while he ate it. 
Mr. Plunkett would not return home till ten o’clock. 
Murtagh knew that he always took his leave when the 
clock struck that hour, so there was a long anxious time 
to wait before Pat was likely to be found, and as Murtagh 
sat upon the step he planned with an almost curious 
calmness all that must come after. 

Pat must be helped somehow. The only way would 
be, Murtagh thought, to tell his uncle all. First he 
thought of going to Nessa, but a more manly instinct 
made him decide that he would go straight to his uncle. 
Then he hoped things would be put properly right for 
Pat, and it was with a lighter heart than he had had for 
a long time that he got up to continue his search. 

But the night was pitch dark, and towards half-past 
nine he was still unsuccessful. He was keeping careful 
watch upon the time, and the suspense now grew pain* 


296 


CASTLE BLAIB. 


fully intense, for he knew that if he had not discovered 
Pat when the stable clock rung out a quarter to ten, 
there would be nothing for it but to warn Mr. Plunkett. 
Was Pat not coming at all ? and if not, where and how 
should he ever find him ? 

At last he began to call gently, “ Pat, Pat ! and after 
a minute a cautious, “Whisht, sir!” from some bushes 
on his right told him that Pat was there. 

He bounded forward. “ I began to think that I 
should never find you ! ” he exclaimed. “ Here, give me 
the gun 1 Oh, Pat, to think how awfully near we were 
doing it I ” 

But Pat started back, holding the gun tightly, and 
asked in a tone different from any he had ever used to 
Murtagh before, “ What is it you ’re meaning ? ” 

“ We were dreadfully wicked, really ; he ’s not half so 
bad as we thought, and it would have been just a 
cowardly murder,” said Murtagh, his voice conveying 
the horror that he felt. 

“I don’t care what it is,” said Pat. “I’m going to 
do it this night.” 

“You shan’t touch him,” replied Murtagh. “You 
don’t understand. He isn’t half so bad as we thought. 
Phis isn’t the way; give me the gun.” 

“ Look here, Mr. Murtagh, I don’t want to hurt ye,” 
leplied Pat in a fierce whisper, “but if ye offer to touch 
that gun I ’ll have to give ye a knock that ’ll keep you 
quiet till it ’s all over.” 

“ Are you mad, Pat ? I tell you we were all wrong.” 
And Murtagh stretched out his hand for the gun. 

“ Right or wrong, it ’s all one to me. I won’t stir out 
o’ this till he ’s as dead as a door-nail.” 

“You shan’t touch him with that gun; I got it, and 
I ’ll have it back,” replied Murtagh. As he spoke he 
seized the gun, and half-succeeded in wrenching it from 
Pat’s grasp. Pat struck out at him a blow that made 
him reel back and loose his hold for a moment, but he 
sprang forward and seized the gun again. Pat tried to 
wrench it from him; Murtagh hung on with all his 


CASTLE BLAIIt. 


297 


Strength ; the gun went off in the struggle, and the loud 
report rang through the park. Almost instantaneously 
there was a second report. Something whizzed through 
the bushes, and before Murtagh had time to realize what 
had happened Pat had fled and he was standing alone 
with the gun in his hands, a curious stiff sensation 
numbing his left arm. He felt half-stunned, and all he 
could think at first was that Pat was gone, and that 
something strange had happened. He stood there for 
a few seconds ; then he sprang out of the bushes and 
hurried towards the house. 

The hall was full of light and commotion. The 
children were out upon the steps, the servants had come 
from the kitchen, Nessa and Mr. Blair stood by Mr. 
Plunkett, who in a perfectly calm voice was desiring 
Brown to bring him a lantern. 

“ I heard no sound after I fired,’’ he added, turning to 
Mr. Blair, “ but if any one is wounded we must get a 
doctor for him, and if — if it should be worse — ” 

“ I trust it is not, I trust it is not,” interrupted Mr. 
Blair, “but if it should be so, Plunkett, remember we 
were fully agreed beforehand that what you have done 
was the right thing to do.” 

“It is all right,” cried Murtagh, “you haven’t hurt 
him, and here ’s your gun ; you ’re quite safe now.” 

His arm was hurting, and his head swam, so that he 
staggered and almost fell as he held out the gun to Mr. 
Plunkett. 

“ And he never fired at you at all ; it was when I was 
trying to get the gun from him that it went off. But oh, 
do be kinder to the people. They don’t know anything 
about just ; and he doesn’t understand now ; they can't 
understand.” 

And the tension of that awful day over at last, the 
excitement died suddenly out of Murtagh’s face, and 
Mr. Plunkett had just time to catch him in his arms as 
he fell fainting to the floor. 


298 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


CHAPTER XXIX. 

H e recovered consciousness to find himself on the 
drawing-room sofa, with Nessa and Mrs. Donegan 
anxiously applying restoratives, while Mr. Blair and the 
children stood round. The moment the wound in his 
arm had been perceived, Mr. Plunkett had himself 
saddled a horse and gone to fetch a doctor. 

“ Go away, please, all of you,” said Murtagh, as soon 
as he could speak. “ I want to speak to Uncle Blair. 
Nessa may stay.” 

Mrs. Donegan and the children looked reluctant, but 
Mr. Blair turned them all out except Winnie. She was 
sitting curled up on a footstool by the head of the sofa, 
and she did not stir. 

“Murtagh and me’s the same,” she said. “I know 
what he ’s going to say.” And as Murtagh put out his 
hand to keep her. Uncle Blair shut the door. 

“Please promise first,” said Murtagh, “that you 
won’t tell anybody else.” 

“ If it ’s about the man who made this attempt to 
night, Murtagh, I ’m afraid I can’t promise,” replied Mr. 
Blair, reluctant to refuse, but with a remembrance of 
Mr. Plunkett’s energy in his mind. “ He must be 
prosecuted; you yourself will, I fear, be obliged to 
answer questions in a court of justice.” 

“But you must promise,” said Murtagh, a feverish 
flush spreading over his cheek. “ Make him promise, 
Nessa. I know I have no right, but it ’s the only way. 
It can’t possibly be put right if he doesn’t.” 

“ Do promise him,” said Nessa, looking entreatingly 
at her uncle, and then glancing anxiously at Murtagh. 
“ Surely you can manage somehow.” And most uncon- 
stitutionally Mr. Blair did manage. 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


299 


“ It was more my fault than his, because he couldn’t 
have done it if I hadn’t got him the gun yesterday,” 
began Murtagh. But he suddenly closed his eyes, 
unable to proceed. Nessa put a spoonful of brandy 
between his lips and he revived a little. 

“ Don’t say anything more, my boy,” said his uncle, 
astonishment at Murtagh’s statement entirely swallowed 
up in anxiety ; “ I understand you don’t want him pun- 
ished.” 

“ I can’t tell you now,” continued Murtagh, “ I feel so 
funny; but you must help him soon, or he ’ll do it again. 
He doesn’t understand. He ’s hiding now. His mother 
— I — I can’t remember ; Winnie ’ll know.” 

He looked anxiously at Winnie, and his eyes closed 
again, but* he was not unconscious ; and Nessa, while 
she attended to him, said almost impatiently : 

“Tell us what it is, Winnie. This excitement is very 
bad for him.” All the Irishmen in Christendom seemed 
to her at that moment of no importance compared to the 
chances of fever setting in with this wounded arm. 

“ I don’t quite know,” said Winnie, taking hold of 
Murtagh’s hand and looking up at her uncle; “but I 
think what he means is he wants you to help Pat 
O’Toole. He ’s been in hiding ever since the fire, you 

know, and I suppose ” Here Winnie hesitated a 

little. “ I suppose he has tried to do this, and that ’s 
why Murtagh doesn’t want the others to know ; and his 
mother knows where he is. And I expect Murtagh 
means if you could help him regularly, get him some 
work or something, and make him come back.” 

“Yes,” said Murtagh, opening his eyes suddenly, 
and looking feverish and excited again ; “ only quick, 
quick, or he ’ll do it again. He doesn’t understand, he 
doesn’t understand, and it ’s all my fault. Nessa said 
it was ; didn’t she, Winnie ? ” His voice was loud, and 
he evidently did not quite know what he was saying. 

“ Hush, hush, my boy,” said his uncle. “ It shall be 
all right; I promise you I will go myself to Mrs. O’Toole 
to-morrow.” Murtagh seemed to hear what his uncle 


300 


CASTLE BLAIB. 


said, for he looked content, and dropped back on the 
pillow from which he had been attempting to rise ; but 
then he fainted again, and though proper remedies soon 
revived him the coming of the doctor was anxiously 
watched for. 

He came and examined first the wound in Murtagh’s 
arm. Mr. Plunkett’s bullet had passed through the 
fleshy part of the arm, and though the loss of blood had 
been considerable the wound was not important. But 
the exposure and excitement of the last three days had 
brought more serious effects in their train, and the 
doctor looked very grave, when, after examining the 
boy, he began to give careful directions to Nessa. 

He would come early next day, he said, and all 
might be well, but he feared it was his duty to warn 
them that the case might be a very serious one. 

His fears were but too well founded, and not many 
days later a telegram went from Mr. Blair to his brother 
Launcelot telling him that Murtagh was dangerously 
stricken with brain fever. 

# « « # # 

But he was not to die. November, December, and 
January passed away, and one mild day early in Febru- 
aiy he was well enough to sit in the big arm-chair by 
the open school-room window, while Winnie sat on the 
window-sill, swinging her legs outside, and fed her ducks 
once more with a merry heart. It had been a sad win- 
ter for her and Rosie and Bobbo, but their independent 
ways had proved of some use, and they had given real 
help in the long time of anxious nursing. Mr. Plunkett 
had taken his turn of sitting up at night, and had shown 
himself a valuable nurse. And all smaller sorrows had 
been merged in the one great trouble. 

With Murtagh ill the children could think of little 
else ; but Mr. Blair had been roused by the events pre- 
ceding the boy’s illness to act for once with energy. 
He had kept his promise of going without delay to Mrs. 
O’Toole, and he had known how to draw from her the 


CASTLE BLAIR, 


301 


information she had refused to Murtagh. Pat had been 
produced, and Mr. Blair knowing Mr. Plunkett well, had 
trusted him with the whole story. 

Mr. Plunkett justified the trust. Honor would have 
forbidden any attempt to punish the boy, and Mr Blair 
saw that in this instance the ends of policy also would 
be better served by generous treatment ; but it was 
neither policy nor the strict requirements of honor alone 
which moved Mr. Plunkett to take the tone he did when 
he talked with Mr. Blair, and to listen with unwonted 
gentleness even to Nessa when she suggested that one 
of the best ways of saving Pat from further mischief 
would be to find work for him elsewhere. 

It was not the effect of the danger from which he had 
escaped ; that would probably have made him simply 
hard and indignant; but Pat’s confession had opened his 
eyes to many things. Unexpected kindness, together 
with Murtagh’s dangerous illness, had filled Pat with 
remorse. He had confessed not only his full share in 
this last enterprise, but his unaided burning of Mr. 
Plunkett’s hayricks ; and it was in hearing of Murtagh’s 
entire innocence with respect to that misfortune, that 
Mr. Plunkett’s self-confidence received a shock of which 
the effect was to him considerable. The fact that it 
was only a child whom he had misjudged and unfairly 
tried to punish, did not make a difference to him as it 
would have done to most people. He had been unjust ; 
and whether the injustice had been committed towards 
a child, a man, or a chimpanzee, had, according to his 
way of looking at it, nothing to do with the question. 

He was accustomed to respect himself, to think him- 
self right, and now he found that he had been wrong, — 
more wrong than the child he had despised. He may 
have been proud, but he was not a man to shirk any- 
thing. He vividly realized the ruin into which the two 
boys had nearly rushed, and while he made no attempt 
even in his own mind to exculpate them altogether 
he remembered that they were children, and blamed 
himself unsparingly for the treatment which had roused 
them to such a pitch of passion. 


302 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


He would have thought little of Pat had it not been 
for Murtagh. He had nothing to reproach himself with 
so far as Pat was concerned. At any other time he 
would have said the boy had only got what he deserved 
when he was caned for an impertinence. But the reve- 
lation of his injustice to Murtagh had strangely shaken 
his trust in himself. He had been wrong with him, 
perhaps he had often been wrong with other people too. 

I’he very fact that no one else thought of attaching a 
shadow of blame to him, made him perhaps judge him- 
self all the more severely ; and it was with almost child- 
like humility that he thought how nearly he had killed 
Murtagh at the very moment when the boy, moved by 
some unaccountable impulse of forgiveness, was fighting 
in his defence. 

Looking back over his feelings he was forced to 
acknowledge to himself that he had never for a moment 
felt forgivingly towards Murtagh. The child had been 
greater than he ; he freely and humbly acknowledged it. 
He did not know that he owed his life to little Marion’s 
love, but he turned to it in his trouble. Whatever he 
had done to others he had never judged her too harshly, 
and her clinging arms about his neck comforted him 
now when, though even Marion scarcely knew it, he was 
in need of comfort. And perhaps the gentle little spirit 
upon which at this time he was leaning influenced his 
actions more than either of them knew, for he certainly 
could not have been expected to feel particularly tender 
towards Pat; and yet Nessa was surprised by the kind- 
ness with which he entered into their plans for him, 
and relieved them of the trouble of making arrange- 
ments. 

He advised Mr. Blair to apprentice the lad to a trade 
in Dublin, where he would be removed from the influ- 
ence of his bad companions, and he himself took the 
trouble to find a respectable household in which the boy 
might live ; so that when the cloud of delirium passed 
from Murtagh’s brain and he asked with almost his first 
connected words for Pat O’Toole, Nessa was able to 


CASTLE BLAIE. 


303 


tell him truly that Pat was quite safe and was doing 
well. 

But that had been some weeks ago. Mr. Plunkett 
had been in England on business since then. Murtagh 
had grown daily stronger ; and surrounded by Nessa’s 
tender cares, and by the household rejoicing which at- 
tended his recovery, he found his convalescence a 
pleasant time. 

He had spent more than one day in the big arm-chair, 
looking out with all an invalid’s pleasure at the returning 
life which the spring sunshine was bringing to the land ; 
and as he sat and watched the purple shadows of the 
trees and hedges contrasting with the faint green of the 
winter grass, or gazed at the bright sky above where 
little white clouds disported themselves in the clear blue 
air, he had many thoughts that he would have found it 
hard to express to any one. Never had the crocuses 
seemed so bright or the snow-drops so beautiful as they 
seemed this year; and when one day the children 
brought him in a spray of bursting hawthorn and a 
bunch of lord and lady leaves from the hedges, tears of 
pleasure came into his eyes at the sight. 

Life was very peaceful and beautiful in those early 
spring days. Nessa’s presence seemed to have brought 
a spring of gentleness to the children’s hearts, and the 
joy in Murtagh’s recovery shed sunshine through the 
house. The boys too were near the realization of one 
of their chief hopes. They were to go to school. For 
Mr. Launcelot Blair on hearing from his brother an ac- 
count of all that happened had written to say that he 
was coming home on leave, and that one of his first 
cares should be to find a private tutor to whom Murtagh 
and Bobbo might go to be prepared for being sent next 
year to Eton. 

“ From all that you tell me of them,” he wrote, “ I 
believe that the discipline of a public school is what they 
want. They have been so left to themselves that they 
judge nothing by an ordinary standard, and a lot of 
rough school -boys will knock common .sense into them 
a great deal faster than you or I could do it.” 


304 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


To the boys no prospect could be more delightful; 
They had longed to go to school ; and though the pre- 
liminary tutor had never entered into their dreams, they 
acknowledged that it might be as well to be somewhat 
more advanced in their studies before they exposed their 
little stock of learning to the world, and they accepted 
him very cheerily, determining to work hard now they 
had something to work for. 

One thing still remained to be done. To-day Mur- 
tagh was to see Mr. Plunkett for the first time since his 
recovery. He felt some natural nervousness at the 
prospect of the interview, but convinced of his fault, he 
had, since he had been able to think about it, looked 
forward anxiously to making the only reparation in his 
power, and no false shame came to trouble him when 
he thought of the explanation and apology he owed to 
Mr. Plunkett. 

And now, while King and Senior squabbled over a 
tempting piece of brown bread too large for either of 
them to swallow, and Murtagh lay back in the chair, 
amused but scarcely taking the trouble to laugh, a big 
Newfoundland poked his black muzzle between and 
carried off the morsel. 

“ Why, Win,” exclaimed Murtagh, roused by the sud- 
den apparition to a more energetic display of interest, 
“ where did he come from ? Did papa get him for you ? ” 

Winnie did what Murtagh never expected to see her 
do when anything touched, however remotely, upon 
Royal, — began to laugh. 

“ No,” she said. “ Guess who did.” 

“ I don’t know,” replied Murtagh. 

“No, and you ilever would guess if you tried till 
Doomsday, so I may as well tell you. Old Plunkett! 
And, Murtagh,” she added, with a sudden change of 
^^anner, “he was really sorry. He told me all about 
Jt, how it was because he was so very angry. And I 
thought about you getting in such rages, and — ” Win- 
nie paused as though she were fighting out again the 
struggle to accept the dog. 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


305 


“ What’s his name? ” asked Murtagh. 

“Jim,” replied Winnie. “I thought I ought to call 
him after him, you know ; but I really couldn't call him 
‘James dear.’ And besides,” she added, dropping her 
voice, “I didn’t want it to be a bit like — ” She 
stopped short and her eyes filled with tears. 

At that moment steps were heard advancing along the 
passage : Winnie dashed the tears out of her eyes, and 
as she glanced up at Murtagh she saw by the faint flush 
upon'his cheek that he guessed who was coming. 

“Are you going to say anything to him about — ?”. 
she asked. 

Murtagh nodded. 

“ Then I ’ll be off,” she replied, jumping as she spoke 
from the window-sill to the flower-border beneath. 
“ Come along ; Guck, Guck, Guck,” And the harsh 
sound of her duck-call filled the air as she walked away, 
the white flock waddling after her. 

Murtagh was glad of it. It seemed to cover his 
nervousness a little as the door opened and' Mr. Plun- 
kett entered alone. Poor child! — he was very weak 
still, and his heart beat fast and his hands trembled as 
he watched Mr. Plunkett advance across the long room. 
But it was only for a moment. When Mr. Plunkett 
took one of the wasted hands in his, and asked him 
kindly how he was, he recovered himself, and answered : 
“ Oh, much better, thank you ; they are all so kind, they 
make me well.” 

Then after a little pause, the flush mounting again to 
his cheek : “ I wanted to see you because I wanted to 
tell you I am very, very sorry I was so near — being so 
dreadfully wicked.” And the effort to speak of it 
brought tears to his eyes. They were driven back again 
at once, but Mr. Plunkett saw them. He had not 
expected any apology ; he had been thinking how wasted 
and shadowy the boy still looked. He was taken by 
surprise, and he suddenly flushed and looked more con- 
fused than Murtagh. 

Not that he did not think an apology was owing to 
20 


3o6 


CASTLE BLAIE. 


him ; but Murtagh had scarcely ever spoken even civilly 
to him before, and the brown eyes raised to his looked 
so humble and beseeching through their shimmering veil 
of tears, that he found himself remembering only all 
the hard things he had said and done to the boy. 

Don’t say anything more,” he said, looking straight 
before him out of the window; “perhaps there were 
faults on both sides.” 

Murtagh did not quite hear, for Mr. Plunkett did not 
speak with his usual distinct utterance, but he was 
encouraged to continue : 

“ I didn’t know how wicked it was. I thought it would 
be a great thing to do, because I thought — He hes- 
itated a little, not quite sure how much Mr. Plunkett 
would bear. “ I thought you were oppressing the peo- 
ple, and it would set them free. And then Nessa said 
you weren’t, and then little Marion — It was so dread- 
ful ; I knew about how wicked it was then, but I never, 
never would have tried if I ’d known at first.” 

“ Marion ! ” said Mr. Plunkett, turning his head. 
“What had she to do with it ? ” 

“ I was in the ditch near your garden, and you were 
carrying her, and she had her arms round you, and she 
seemed to love you so. It seemed almost like papa,” 
said Murtagh, his voice dropping at the recollection. 
“ It would have been so dreadful if anything happened 
to you then. And then you said, ‘ God knew you were 
doing the best you could for the people;’ and I felt 
quite sure you were speaking the truth, and you really 
were trying, and you were only just making mistakes; 
and it seems so cruel people getting hurt for making 
mistakes.” 

Mr. Plunkett did not speak at once. He knew him- 
self to be one of the best agents in Ireland, and yet he 
had listened without a smile as Murtagh, in childish 
good faith, described how he had been tried, found 
wanting, and forgiven by so ignorant a little judge. 
Perhaps the boy’s words stirred something within him 
that was not often moved. Perhaps with the remem- 


CASTLE BLAIR. 


307 


brance of the death to which both he and the child had 
been so near there came a thought of another tribunal 
at which he would one day be tried, found wanting, and 
yet, he hoped, forgiven ; for after a moment he turned 
and said : 

“ I have made mistakes with you ; but we must start 
fresh, and perhaps we shall get on better now.” 

And before Murtagh had recovered from his surprise 
Mr. Plunkett had wrung his hand and left the room. 
For a moment or two Murtagh was too much astonished 
to understand. Then he felt that he was forgiven, 
really forgiven, as he had never expected to be. The 
old life was wiped out, and with a rush of happy exulta- 
tion he realized that this was indeed a fresh start. 

Nessa entered the room with a bunch of white cro- 
cuses and some ivy leaves that she had just brought in 
from the garden. 

Oh, Nessa,” he exclaimed, “ I am so happy ! ” 

Are you, dear ? ” she said, with a glad smile, kneel- 
ing down beside him and laying the crocuses on his 
knees. 

“ Yes,” he said. “ Everything seems so good and 
bright. Only when I look at it all,” he added slowly, 

1 wonder how I could ever — have thought like I used 
to think.” 

Nessa did not answer. She wondered too as she 
gazed out across the sunny grass to the bridge. Winnie 
was standing on the ivy-covered parapet, with one hand 
swinging her hat, and with the other supporting a pigeon 
which she was feeding with bits of bread from between 
her lips; Jim sat patient on the gravel ; the white ducks 
clamored round her ; and another pigeon was spreading 
his tail and pluming himself upon the parapet at her 
feet. The water sparkled; the sky beyond was blue; 
the voices of the other children playing somewhere out 
of sight floated in happy bursts upon the air. It was all 
beautiful enough to make anybody wonder how wicked- 
ness could be. 

Murtagh’s eyes followed Nessa’s. They both looked 


3o8 


CASTLE BLAIB. 


at Winnie in silence for a moment, and then he contin- 
ued, turning to Nessa : 

“ But I am glad I have been ill. It has made me 
seem to understand things better. I have been thinking 
and thinking, often when you didn’t think I was think- 
ing of anything. And I seem to feel now,” — he 
blushed a little, but went on firmly, — “ that even if 
people are wicked and disagreeable it can’t do one bit 
of good hating them. I mean,” he said, fixing his eyes 
with a fervent earnest look upon hers, “ I feel it is so 
that I don’t think I ever can forget it.” 

“Yes,” said Nessa softly. “If God were to hate us 
even when we are wicked what should we do ? It often 
comes over me with a sort of rush of gladness, how that 
when we make mistakes, and get tired, and go wrong. 
He is still there watching over us, loving us all the time, 
never getting impatient. And you know,” she added a 
little shyly, “ we are told to try and be as like God as 
we can.” 


THE END. 


SUSAN COOLIDGE’S NEW BOOK. 


A 


GUERNSEY LILY; 


OR, 

CHILDREN IN THE CHANNEL ISLANDS. 


BY 

SUSAN COOLIDGE, 

AUTHOR OF “ WHAT KATV DID,” ETC. 


Profusely illustrated and bound in illuminated cloth. One small 
quarto volume. Price $2.00. 


ROBERTS BROTHERS, Publishers, 


Boston. 



LOUISA M. ALOOTT’S FAMOUS BOOKS 


I 


IJTTLE WOMEN; or, Meg. Jo, Beth, and Amy. parts 

First and Second. Price of each, $1.50. 

ROHEiiTS BROTHERS, P„hlis?,cys. Bosto,, 


,OUISA M. ALOOTT’S FAMOUS BOOKS 



“ Sing, Tessa ; sing 1 ” cried Tommo, twanging away with all his might. — Pagb 47. 

AUNT JO’S SCRAP-BAG: Containing “My Boys,’* 

“Shawl-Straps,'’ “Cupid and Chow-Chow,” “My Girls,” “Jimmy’s 
Cruise in the Pinafore.” 5 vols. Price of eat h, ^i.oo. 

ROBERTS BROTHERS, Publishers, 

Boston 


JOLLY GOOD TIMES; 



CHILD LIFE ON A FARM. 

By P. THORNE. Price $1.25. 


ROBERTS BROTHERS, Publishers, 



Mice at 


I 


Play. 



“ I pulled it full of water, and then I poked the pipe end into her 
ear, and then I let it fly.” 


“When the Cat’s away, the Mice will play.” 


A STORY FOR THE WHOLE FAMILY. 

By Neil Forest. Pfice $1.25. 

— • — 

ROBERTS BROTHERS, Publishers, 

Boston, 


H. H.’S YOUNG FOLKS’ BOOK. 


Bits of Talk, 

IxY VERSE AND PROSE, 

FOR YOUNG FOLKS. 

•By H. H., 

AUTHOR OF “ BITS OF TALK ABOUT HOME MATTERS,” 
“bits of TRAVEL,” “ VERSES.” 



“ in all the lands 

No such morning-glory.” — Page 133. 

PRICE $1.00. 


ROBERTS BROTHERS, Publishers, 


Boston. 


Jean Ingelows Prose Story Books. 

In 5 vols. 16mo, uniformly bound. 


STUDIES FOR STORIES FROM GIRLS' LIVES. Ulus 

trated, Price, $1.25. 

“ A rare source of delight for all who can find pleasure in really good works of 
prose ficiion. . . . They are prose poems, carefully meditated, and exquisitol, 
ouched in by a teacher ready to sympathize with every joy and sorrow.’’ — 
AihencBum. j j 

STORIES TOLD TO A CHILD Illustrated. Price, $1.25. 

STORIES TOLD TO A CHILD. Second Series, Tlln s. 
trated. Price, $1.25. 

“This is one of the most charming juvenile books ever laid on our tabic 
Jean Ingelow, the noble English poet, second only to Mrs. Browning, bends easily 
and gracefully from the heights of thoutjht and fine imagination to commune 
with the minds and hearts of children ; to sympathize with their little joys and 
sorrows; to feel for their temptations. She is a safe guide for the little pilgrims; 
for her paths, though ‘ paths of pleasasVness,’ lead straight upward.” — Grace 
Greenwood in ^^The Little Filgrim.^' 

A SISTER’S BYE-HOURS. Illustrated. Price, $1.25. 

“ Seven short stories of domestic life by one of the most popular of the young 
authors <.f the day, — an author who has her heart in what she writes, — Jeaa 
Ingelow. And there is heart in these stories, and healthy moral lessons, too. 
They are written in the author’s most graceful and affecting style, will be read 
adth real pleasure, and, when read, will leave more than momentary impressions.’ 
— Brooklyn Union. 

MOPSA THE FAIRY. A Story. With Eight Illustrations 

Price, $1.25. 

“ Miss Ingelow is, to our mind, the most charming of all living writers for 
children, and ‘ Mopsa ’ alone ought to give her a kind of pre-emptive right to the 
love and gratitude of our young folks. It requires genius to conceive a pivrely 
imaginary work which must of necessity deal with the supernatural, without 
ninuing into a mere riot of fantastic absurdity ; but genius Miss Ingelow has, 
and the story of Jack is as careless and joyous, but as delicate, as a picture of 
childhood. 

“ The young people should be grateful to Jean Ingelow and those other noble 
writers, who, in our day, have taken upon thenselves the task of supplying them 
ivith literature, if for no other reason, that these writers have saved them from 
the ineffable didacticism which, till within the last few years, was considered tivc 
only food fit for the youthfu. mind.” — Eclectic. 

Sold everywhere Mailed, postpaid, by the Publishers. 


ROBERTS BROTHERS, Boston 


LOUISE CHANDLER MOULTON’S STORIES, 



BED-TIME STORIES. 

MORE BED-TIME STORIES. 

, NEW BED-TIME STORIES. 


WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY ADDIE LEDYARD. 

Three volumes in a box. Price, $3.75. 


ROBERTS BROTHERS, Publishers, 

BOSTON 


MRS. EWING’S BOOK OF BOYS 



WE AND THE WORLD. 

■ By Mrs. Ewing. Price, $1.25 

ROBERTS BROTHERS, PtMishers, 



MRS. EWING'S STORIES. 



A GREAT EMERGENCY, 

AND OTHER STORIES. 

By Mrs. Ewing. Price, $1.25. 

ROBERTS BROTHERS, Publishers, 

BOSTON. 




^ - • •- . 
/?S •<% . r •■ ^ •■ 

- * •“ •« • _ ^ ml . • . i 










•»^ 





■fri"- 

•♦ L^ >1 ’’L' 

,>V^ ' 

ittr.-^ 



... 

Eli -r - 

'cl ' ‘‘T" •# i '■ J 4 

_ „ M '>wflS«^ -*1^ O • ■ * * * 

1/-* ' V *•' ‘ rv fj, 


« -* 








i..Ei- '■"* - ^>1'” ■> V .' . 'f •■* V 



1 * 


-If,, '-a “ 








- f 




■ ' * - ■ •^L - J 



* ‘^![rvL 

’■‘fef W.'j&afe’*' ' ' ■'.'/ ' 


- **'•1 

y 


* 


n . 


»:i.’ ' ’■ m 


7 


’ * 1 


# • V 


£^' ii 


1 1 






A 




• ■-'• 4V'* 

«'5v-.-<r„5;lv. 

’ ■/ '«. 'J? ‘^'■'^*-^r. -- • 

*. • *. 1^ •^■TT ^ A. 



i-is’t / v^: V ^^1 








Vi.!. '• 


r ' -4 ^ ^ ^ 


,‘tt 


■ C 9 3 ^ 


•’ « : /i :rv 

,- *V* ■*' •' • 




•«=* - 


X# 



A .f 






i • • ^ 

A ' f ■ ■'« 









- ' » .■* i t 

I. 


V ^v 




•> 










« 

■K 




I 


I* 

« 

. ^ 


J • 


4 

« 


• ■ 



I . . 


► 


V- 


■ I 





/ 

r' 


» 




IP* 




* 




« 

i 


» 




% # ' 




« 


% 




f 


> 


» 



I 



i. 


* 


« 





If : 



t 


I 


V 




• « 














lA 







LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



□□0Elfl3b30a 




